


lost and found

by lusterrdust



Series: where the heart is [1]
Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Old Lovers, Roommates, Small Character Cameos, bughead - Freeform, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusterrdust/pseuds/lusterrdust
Summary: "Maybe as a seventeen-year-old, sneaking kisses with the blonde he’d been in love with at the time—maybe he’d had a thought or two of her as a mother; a boy’s fantasy of the blissful domesticity he never had." [bughead, future fic]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd - please forgive errors

 

 

 

>  ▱◯♕
> 
> _"And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes,_  
>  _in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality,  
>  I'd find you, and I'd choose you."_  
>  _-the chaos of stars_
> 
> ◯

Tulips are her favorite flowers, yet her home is filled with lilies.

There’s an abundance of the admittedly beautiful white-petalled flower covering every surface of her small two-bedroom apartment. A bundle of them sit in a half-filled vase beside a family portrait of a smiling wife and husband with their newborn baby boy. A deceiving photo of the perfect family.

She doesn’t think it’s appropriate to toss the frame away now that she’s just returned home from his second memorial service.

Barely twenty-five years old and with a six-month-old baby, Elizabeth “Betty” Cooper finds herself a single mother and a widow.

Instead of tossing the photo, she merely places it face down against the shelf and walks to the second bedroom to tuck her son down for a nap. He’s out cold in minutes, and she allows herself to sit in the rocking chair by his window, staring out into the city of Boston as the numbness inside her stretches over every crevice of her body.

The chair she’s in creaks slightly under her weight before her feet bury themselves in the carpet to push herself into a slow rock.  

Betty feels like she should be sobbing, yet she’s not. Instead, she feels nothing—just the unseen shadowed pariah that’s been picking apart her soul for years now, only for it to have finally caught up and left her hollow in midst of a tragedy.

A small huff from the crib draws her attention from the hectic city outside to her soundly sleeping son and her gaze falls to his dark ebony curls and rosy cheeks.

She envies his blissful ignorance.

… … ...

There’s really nothing glamorous about being a single mother.

It’s romanticized often in television and the sappy romance novels lining her bookshelves—but really, it’s nothing short of chaotic.

With the added stress of her late husband’s paperwork and finances and settlements, the total isolation she feels in parenthood is enough to have her tremble with fear and uncertainty.

She’s never felt so alone in her damned life.

“I don’t know what you want!” Betty cries in exasperation, bouncing her baby against her chest as he wails near her ear. Her feet burn holes in the carpet as she tries to calm him down, but he’s not having it.

She’s fed him, she’s changed him, she’s sang, she’s danced, she’s taken him out on the balcony, given him a bath—and still he cries. _Loudly_. Relentlessly.

And then, the rubber band of the little remaining sanity in her snaps; Betty’s sobs mingle with his own as she falls to the floor, overwhelmed and defeated.

… … …

“It’s so good to have you home, honey.”

“Thanks, mom.”

She moves back to Riverdale. It’s not her first choice, but for the simple fact she can’t afford her life in Boston anymore. It’s just another hard-hitting reality she can add to the list of reasons why this is the worst year of her life. With just her income alone and the added finances of daycare, she’d been at the brink of being evicted anyway.

So Betty moves home, much to her chagrin.

It’s not as if she hates Riverdale, no.

Only… the people who had made it great for her so long ago, they were now spread out across the states, living their own lives. And her mother, despite easing up on her controlling ways since their blow up after graduation, still manages to nag her on how to be a parent.

_‘You’re not holding him right, sweetheart.’_

_‘Should you be eating that? Here, I’ll make you a salad.’_

_‘You’re feeding him again? Oh, Betty…”_

The third week of being back, Betty finally takes her first outing of the house, jogging and pushing her baby’s stroller to Pop Tate’s. She orders a vanilla shake, noting with dry amusement on how her mother would likely have a conniption if she saw her indulging in the high calorie treat.

Pop Tate greets her excitedly and she shares the enthusiasm, showing off her baby boy proudly as the old man leans into the stroller and laughs as chubby fingers reach out to grab the scruff of hair on his chin.

When Pop leaves, Betty sits in the booth alone, reminiscing over times she’d been in her exact spot with Archie, Veronica and Jughead.

She bids Pop goodbye after her meal’s finished and wanders out into the streets, not yet wanting to go back to home. But as she enters the library, she’s hit with shock and elation at spotting a familiar crown-beanie in the middle of a row, stocking shelves with books.

Betty fights the urge to cry at seeing him.

“Excuse me, sir.” She begins, feigning leisure as he turns around and stares at her wide-eyed. “I’m looking for the book _‘Riverdale: Cold Case’_ , it’s written by this really great author, Forsythe Jones. Maybe you've heard of him—“

“Betty!” the man in front of her places the books in his grasp down as she throws herself onto him, locking her arms around his neck while he recovers from his shock and returns the embrace.

“Hi, Jughead.”

They remain that way for a moment before Jughead pulls away.

“I caught wind you’d been back.” he says, furrowing his brows before glancing to the baby staring at him. His gaze sobers. “…I’m sorry about—“

“Thank you.” Betty cuts him off quickly, looking down. She doesn’t want to think about her late husband. His death was still too fresh for her emotions.

Jughead looks a little awkward at her obvious unease, not knowing what else to say.

“This is my son,” Betty gestures to her baby proudly. “Tobias Jones.”

At the surname, Jughead raises a brow but Betty just gives small amused smirk and jokes, “No suffixes.”

“He looks like you.”

Betty beams at that, proud of the compliment.

Jughead clears his throat and gives a glance to the stack of books on his cart before looking back to her. “I’ve got an hour left before my shift’s over. Do you… do you wanna catch up afterward?”

Betty swallows the excitement she feels, not wanting to appear too eager or desperate for any interaction other than her mother and her baby. Being a single full-time mother of a baby usually meant social depravity. Instead, she beams gratefully at Jughead and nods, “That sounds wonderful, Juggie.”

The nostalgia at the nickname hangs in the air around them as his lips curve. “Great. I’ll just….?” His eyes glance around the bookshelves.

“Tobi and I came to read.” Betty points to the children’s area decorated with toys and books and bean bag chairs. “Get us when you’re done?”

Jughead nods, feeling a tightening in his chest at the glowing smile she gives in response.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

… … …

“So how are you really?”

In the small space of his very bachelor-esque condo, Betty sits on the floor across Jughead, a box of half-eaten pizza between them on the coffee table and his sheepdog sitting beside her, completely expectant of food. Despite the years of lost contact, Betty and Jughead slip into easy conversation, talking about every and all things until it lulls with the topic of her recent move.

Betty knows Jughead never asks questions he doesn’t care the answers to, but she clams up just the same. Shoulders tight, her eyes drift to the sleeping baby on a the dingy green and orange flannelled sofa behind her.

“I…” her words hang in the air as she stares with heartbreak at Tobi before wiping her tears and looking back to grim faced, yet patient, Jughead.

“I have my days.” Betty confesses honestly, voice small and tight with emotion. “I just keep thinking about Tobi… how he’ll never know his father.”

Jughead doesn’t what to say to that, but he’s saved a response as Betty continues. Her sleeve drags across her damp lashes as she gives humorless chuckle. “Lincoln and I had a fight the night he… when he…”

Jughead feels a pit of unease at her implication. “You don’t have to—“

“We were going to get a divorce.” She confesses quietly, swallowing the knot in her throat as her glossy eyes move up to stare at him. Her faces scrunches with guilt as her fingertips rest over her lips, as if ready to cover her mouth the moment a sob tries to escape. “He-he had a problem with gambling. Everything we had—all of our savings… we lost it all. He was so angry—I shouldn’t have let him drive in the state he was in, I— _Oh_ , Jughead, I just…” her body trembles as she dips her head into her hands and lets out a choked cry. “I just snapped! I-I threatened to keep Tobi from him!”

Growing up, Jughead’s seen Betty Cooper cry many times.

Over her mother. Over Archie. Over Polly. Over their break-up…

But he’s never seen her break down like now.

The grief she’s bottled up over her husband’s passing pours into the air of his small living room. Her guilt is so heavy it’s near tangible.

He’s just about to comfort her when Tobi’s disrupted from his sleep, giving a piercing cry that quells her own. When her arms reach for the baby, she gives him an apologetic glance and sniffs her runny nose. “I-I’m so sorry, Jughead.”

“Babies cry, Betts.” He tells her, flicking the plate in front of him just to give his fingers something to do. “I knew that when I invited you here.”

“I meant…” her head bows as chubby hands grip the collar of her sweater, pulling the front buttons loose accidentally.

Jughead’s never had an ideal childhood. He knows little about ‘picket-fence’ life and ‘perfect families’. His own family’s your standard bucket of dysfunction, but really, whose wasn’t? Yet, watching Betty coo and caress her own son into calm—he thinks she’s meant for those things. Motherhood, it becomes her.

Maybe as a seventeen-year-old, sneaking kisses with the blonde he’d been in love with at the time—maybe he’d had a thought or two of her as a mother; a boy’s fantasy of the blissful domesticity he never had. But as life often did, it threw them down different paths and he never gave fuel to the idea after their breakup.  

And now, seven years later, here she is. In his living room no less, unknowingly giving him full access to observe this raw and pellucid side of her.  

“Do you mind if I change him?” Betty asks, pulling him from his thoughts. Her face is constricted with distress as she continues to bounce Tobi, trying desperately to silence him.

Jughead gives a shake of his head and waves his hand dismissively, stuffing another slice of pizza into his mouth before large paws nudge his thigh.

“Down, Hotdog.” He shrugs the dog off, relenting only after the animal gives a whine.

Betty tries to move quick as possible, changing Tobi before her phone goes off. One hand lifting two ankles, her other answers the device before pressing it to her ear, accidently hitting the speaker button. “Mom, I’m a little busy right—“

 _“Where are you?”_ her mother’s voice calls out in irritation, startling Betty with the volume as the phone slips from her shoulder into her unbuttoned blouse. She reaches in and moves to get her off speaker before her mother’s rambling. _“Why is Tobi crying? Are you overfeeding him again? I noticed two of bottles in the sink, Betty. You really need to think about how you’re raising him, sweetheart. Oh! I also bought you some nipple cream—“_

“Mom!” Betty cuts her off in mortification, feeling her face burn with embarrassment as she fumbles to get her phone to her ear while simultaneously fitting the diaper around her son’s bum. “I know how to raise my son—“

_“Oh, I’m sorry honey, I have another call coming in. See you at home.”_

The phone clicks off before Betty can even reply and her cheeks burn as shaky fingers button up Tobi’s navy colored onesie.

When she glances toward Jughead, it’s clear he’s heard everything, even the parts where her mother had been off speaker.

Truly and wholly mortified, Betty throws the strap of her diaper bag around her shoulder and lays Tobi against her chest before standing up. Swallowing thickly, she gives Jughead a strained smile. “I’m so sorry—“

“Stop apologizing.” Jughead tells her, standing as well and tossing the crust of his pizza to Hotdog. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he fidgets on his feet slightly as they stare at one another. “You’re allowed to be a person, Betty.”

He doesn’t expect his offhanded attempt at a joke to cause her already red-rimmed eyes to gloss over with fresh tears, making him feel like a complete tool.

“Shit, don’t—don’t cry,” Jughead’s face pinches with discomfort, not sure of the right protocol to comfort the distressed mother. He settles instead for brushing the hair from her face and using his sleeve to wipe the few tears that roll down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m not great with words.”

Betty’s lips curve wryly at that as she gives a watery chuckle. “Except when you’re writing them.”

The compliment makes him warm.

“I’d better get home.” Betty finally says with a sigh, looking as if that’s the last thing she wants to actually do. “Honestly, the sooner I find a place, the better. I love my mom, but she’s….”

Severe? Overbearing?

Jughead wisely says none of these things, but his interest is piqued at her words. “You’re trying to move out?”

“ _Trying_ , being the key word.” Betty tells him, adjusting Tobi in her grip and swaying her body slightly to calm his fussy state. “Lincoln’s—our credit was damaged with the—with the gambling...”

Her tone is slightly ashamed and embarrassed, but Jughead can’t help but feel a semblance of relief in his chest that she’s opened herself up with him after years of being apart. His arms fold across his chest as leans against the wall beside him, looking thoughtful for a moment.

At his next words, Betty stiffens.

“Move in with me.” Jughead suggests, as if simply talking about the weather.

Betty’s eyes widen and her mouth parts, stunned with the nonchalant offer. Her body stops moving as she stares at her old friend with a look of disbelief. “W-what?”

Pushing himself off the wall, Jughead walks to the small table in the foyer and opens the drawer, pulling out a stack of papers and handing her one.

“I’ve been looking for a roommate for a while now.” He explains as her eyes read over the ad confirming his statement. “No one’s been a good match yet. The second bedroom’s big enough for you two, at least for now. And the bathroom’s got two sinks, if you wanted the cabinet space.”

“You—I—“ Betty’s speechless as her eyes flicker back up to his own. “Juggie, this is—I have a baby.”

“Yeah, I got that.” He deadpans as his features remain unfazed by her blabbering self.

Betty’s brows furrow as she looks down to the ad again. “He’s—Jughead, are you sure you know what you’re asking? Kids are—“

“They cry, they break things, they poop. Yeah, I’m aware of a baby’s basic functions, Betts.” Jughead quips, raising a brow before sighing. “Look, you can take your time to think it over. If it’s too weird, I get it.”

Betty licks her lips, letting her eyes graze over the small yet cozy condo. “I… I don’t have that much money—“

“Jesus, Betty, I’m not going to charge you.” Jughead laughs sharply, startling her as her eyes widen even further, blinking up at him. “I know you’re still… you know, ‘ _mothering’_.” his hands wave in gesture before he continues with just the barest hints of insecurity. “..We’re friends, right? I mean, maybe not like we were before, but we could be again...”

Betty’s eyes soften as the walls around her crack at the seams from his candor.

“I’d like that.” She tells him honestly, feeling her lips turn up mildly in a smile. Looking down at the paper again, she takes a deep breath and regards him briefly through her lashes. “You’re… you’re absolutely sure you’d be okay with me and Tobi living here?”

Jughead’s flat look is slightly exasperated, but he nods just the same. “I wouldn’t offer you otherwise.”

“Okay.” Betty nods, feeling a bubble of elation and nervousness coil in her stomach. “Okay, I’ll move in.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _"The walls we build around us to  
>  keep sadness out, also keep out joy"_  
>  _-Jim Rohn_
> 
> ◯

 

_“You still know how to cook, right? Because, if the answer’s no, I’m gonna have to retract my offer.”_

Living with Jughead is an adjustment at first.

Betty finds out he smokes; a habit she grimaces at but keeps silent about, though he's well aware of her disapproval. He is also surprisingly quite tidy, albeit a bit messy in terms of leaving things out on the kitchen counter, but otherwise tidy overall. She finds he constantly has to have the television on, playing some or other classic film for background noise. On his days off, he spends the first half of it typing away on his laptop and the other half kicking his feet up on the coffee table to indulge himself in his film noir.

It’s her second week being fully moved in that Betty finds herself laying on the floor of her bedroom, under a play gym and watching with vacant eyes as Tobi plays with the dangling toy-cat above him. The speaker goes off and the mechanical sound of a meow fills the room for the umpteenth time before her eyes burn with tears.

Her fingers brush the dark curls on Tobi’s head and caress the olive skin of his cheek, trying desperately to pull herself from the dark shadows of her mind.

But she can’t help it. She thinks of Lincoln and his family, she thinks of the years’ worth of savings he’d taken her from—making her feel horrible and selfish because he’s now dead and all she can think about is how bitter she feels to the financial deprivation he left her and Tobi in. She's bitter over the way his family harasses her phone, trying to get time with Tobi, all the while making sure to tarnish her name for the cause of their son's death. 

Betty buries her head into the blanket underneath her clenching it to help fight off the heaving of her chest. Tobi giggles and grins her a toothless baby grin that pulls the tiniest of smiles from her as her heart continues to constrict.

A knock on her door, she hears Hotdog bark from the other side before Jughead’s shushing him and calling out for her. “Betty? Not to disrupt your solitude, but I brought dinner.”

His footsteps pad away as her eyes linger on the door without a response. For a few moments, Betty considers ignoring him and staying in her room for the night, but her rumbling stomach forces a groan from her throat and pushes her to her feet.

Opening the fridge, she curses under her breath and avoids Jughead’s calculative brow at her silence.

“Everything okay?” he asks through his chewing.

Betty shuts the door with a bit more force than necessary. “I forgot to pump.”

She sees the tension in his posture at her words and walks back to her room, retrieving her nursing wrap. Placing Tobi against her, Betty makes sure she's properly covered before walking back out and plopping herself down at the table. She grabs a pair of chopsticks and digs in with a low 'thank you'. 

His eyes regard her with the question his mouth is too full to speak. From her side, the large sheepdog stares at her with pleading eyes hidden under shaggy hair. His tongue darts out every rise of her chopsticks to pop a piece of orange chicken in her mouth.

“How was your day?” Betty asks, finally breaking the silence between them before flinching at Tobi’s infant lack of regard for her sensitivity.

Jughead stares at her through the small curl over his eye, knee propped up in his chair in the strange posture he sometimes takes while eating.

“Well," his voice drawls as his elbow rests on his knee, chopsticks dangling from his fingers. "I pushed around and stacked a cart of Nora Roberts books for the first half of it, then spent the second half convincing the woman interested in them to go with a John Wyndham’s work instead.”

Betty can’t fight the tug of amusement from her lips as she imagines Jughead persuading a middle-aged woman from reading a romance to suspense; as if the two genres aren’t just the metonym of each other. “And did she?”

Jughead smirks. “ _’Foul Play Suspected’_.”

A wave of nostalgia hits Betty as she thinks to the two of them as teenagers—running around Riverdale trying to solve the murder of a teen now long forgotten by modern day’s apathy to anything but self-interest.

When she looks up, Jughead’s staring at her in a way that tells her his thoughts are similar. Her fingers idly turn the chicken in her bowl over with slow movements as her eyes lose focus. “Do you ever think about it, Juggie?” she whispers, mind immersed back to the days they stuck out in the Blue & Gold editing room. She thinks of their summer in the woods, by the lake and in her bedroom. She thinks of the trouble they got into and the kisses they snuck out behind Pop's. 

The silence is heavy with energy before Jughead answers, his voice just as soft. “What?”

Betty holds his gaze, mulling the consequences of the words stuck in her throat before forcing a chuckle and shaking her head. “Nothing.” She smiles, continuing to eat before adjusting Tobi on her chest. "Sorry, I just spaced out, I guess." 

His grimace and dimmed gray eyes are enough to keep her stomach turning in guilt for the rest of the night.

… … …

The days pass slowly, and Betty feels like the sand inside an hourglass.

Her eyes are vacant as they stare back at her through the bathroom mirror. Dark bags only enunciating the popped blood vessel in her right eye, she looks like a bedraggled victim from a horror movie. The pill in her hand feels as heavy as lead and tastes just as rancid on her tongue.

With a sigh, she brings Tobi’s bouncer in the bathroom while she showers, inviting Hotdog in to stare with confusion as she makes funny faces to Tobi through the slightly ajar curtain. Moving her hands through her hair, Betty feels her chest lighten at her son’s giggles and tries to not spill water onto the floor as she rushes through her shower.

“Betty?”

From down the hall, Betty hears Jughead's voice and pulls the curtain to her body just as his head pops through the door. The words die on his tongue before he can get a proper sentence out. “What ar—oh! S-sorry.”

Jughead ducks his head down immediately as his hand comes up to shield his eyes. The curtain had been a knee jerk reaction, and Betty’s instantly at his level of fluster, given its clear material does a shit poor job of covering her naked body up.

“Jughead," she squeaks, "what are you doing here!?”

Despite his embarrassment at seeing more of her than he was prepared for, Jughead breathes out a sharp laugh and kneels down to greet Tobi. “I live here.”

Betty bites back her irritation and let her eyes flicker to the towel on the counter.

“But, I got off early.” He finishes, sensing her embarrassment and easing up. “What are you doing? Why is Tobi in here with you?”

“Well, I can’t leave him unsupervised.” Betty retorts in a clipped tone, “He spit up on me. I needed to wash it off.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” She clears her throat. “Now just… I need to get dressed.”

“Here,” Jughead says, picking Tobi out of the bouncer while keeping his gaze strictly on the baby. “I’ll take him. You finish your shower.”

“But—“

Without meaning to, his eyes flicker up at her protest before his brain catches his action and forces them back down. Betty sees the light flush on his cheeks and feels her own chest flare with heat and insecurity. While she had gotten back down to her pre-baby weight, she knows motherhood and pregnancy have taken their toll on her body. She’s scarred and insecure and her walls go up again. “Fine. Just close the door please!”

Jughead carries Tobi out of the bathroom before she calls his name, stopping him. Biting her lip, her fingers clench the plastic curtain. “…thank you, Jughead.”

When his eyes move to hers this time—no embarrassment, no wandering—she catches herself looking away from the tenderness in them.

“Don’t mention it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting the feedback on this story to be so positive, thank you so much!


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

> ▱ ◯♕
> 
> _“I've made a lot of mistakes in my life,_  
>  _but if every single one had to happen_  
>  _to make sure I was right here,_ _right now,  
>  to meet you, _ _then I forgive myself for them all.”_  
>  _—K. Towne Jr._
> 
> ◯

Jughead Jones has always been an observer.

To the town he lives in and the people in it, he's content with being the fly on the wall. Sure, he had small fame for a while over the popularity of his novel two years prior, but as predicted, it dwindled down with time until he was no more than ‘that one author’ who worked at the library.

But there was one thing Jughead observed perhaps more attentively than anything or anyone else—his ex-girlfriend, now roommate, Elizabeth Cooper.

He grew up with her, watched her overcome playground bullies, win spelling bees and even helped with her sixth-grade science project about air density and the movement of molecules.

She’d won a ribbon for second place in that, and had then asked her sister Polly to help bake a blackberry pie in thanks, just for him.  

Jughead had seen Betty blossom into a beautiful young lady in middle school; he’d seen the way other boys in their grade began to take notice of her while her attention turned to Archie. He had seen the effects of her family’s dysfunction wear her state of mind down until she was forced to take pills for her ADHD and depression per her mother’s insistence at the start of their freshman year.

He had seen the way their development in trying to solve Jason Blossom’s murder gave her an outlet to focus all that energy and frustration into. And he’d seen the way her world had spiraled into chaos the moment her father was arrested and charged for tampering with evidence in the young teen’s murder—ultimately hankering himself a hefty fifteen-year sentence and digging the final nail into the coffin of what little positive reputation the Cooper family had left in Riverdale.

Jughead doesn’t know how things would’ve turned out had Sheriff Keller not remembered to turn on his home’s security camera that night Betty’s father broke into his house. He doesn’t know how that could’ve played into Jason Blossom’s cold-cased murder, or if it would’ve had any affect in the outcome at all...

But the fact remained, Hal Cooper had burned every single speck of evidence, and the case had ran dry.

It was a month before their graduation, the day of his final verdict for several counts of breaking and entering, theft, and destroying evidence in a homicide case— _that_ had been the day Jughead Jones lost Betty Cooper.

Not all at once.

No, he’d lost her gradually.

A shell of her former self, Betty had spent that last month of their high school lives as a ghost. A girl lost in the sea of students who whispered cruel words and gave her disparaging looks. And while Jughead and their friends had done their best to combat those around them and pull her from darkness she was slipping in, Betty had simply drowned in it.

The events that unraveled after father’s sentencing had been too much for their relationship to survive. And while Jughead had been heartbroken—not only for the fact that the feelings he’d had for her were strong and unwavered—but for the fact he, nor anyone he knew, could help her.

And when the situation with Polly had happened, like the snip of a wire, taut and tense, they’d snapped apart almost violently.

Betty ended things, snot nosed and puffy eyed—Jughead couldn’t say which of them felt worse that night she left. She promised she’d stay in touch, but she didn’t. He didn’t blame her.

Jughead knew more than anyone that the best way to get over a toxic situation was to extract yourself from it.

So he let her go.

Not because he wanted to, but because she _needed_ to.

That didn’t mean he stopped loving her. He couldn't.

Sighing heavily, Jughead pulls his car to a stop and shuts his car off, staring at the steering wheel for a moment before getting out.

Closing the door behind him, he walks through the gates of Riverdale’s cemetery with a bundle of tulips in his grip. Head downcast, his boots make quiet sloshing sounds over the damp grass, soiled by the previous night’s rainfall. A short distance away he sees a group of people gathering, all dressed in black.

Jughead moves on, turning his head to stare forward blankly until he finally reaches the familiar headstone.

The flowers before it are dead, their withered petals damp from the rain as well, and he kneels to replace the old flowers there with fresh ones. Breaking down the stems, Jughead sticks the pieces into his pocket before grimacing at the slab of marble.

_Polly Cooper_

_Devoted daughter, sister, and friend._

_“Sleep on now, and take your rest.” Matthew 10:22_

His fingers move into the cratered epitaph, wiping the mud off the engraving before brushing it off on his jacket.

Devoted daughter, sister, and friend—no mention of mother or fiancé.

Heaving a sigh, Jughead takes his stand and buries his hands into his pockets before walking away. He doesn’t look up to the sounds of sobbing from the grieving group nearby. He doesn’t smile at the site’s custodian who recognizes him and gives a wave; he merely nods and continues the trek to his vehicle.

He doesn’t feel like observing right now. 

… …. ….

There’s Dean Martin playing when Jughead walks into his home, followed with the most delicious smell wafting through the air.

Betty’s voice is intermingled with the singer’s rich baritone and he hides a smile at her obliviousness to his presence. She looks carefree, like a glimmer of the girl he once knew so long ago.

Instead of announcing himself, Jughead folds his arms and watches as she cooks in the small kitchen while simultaneously keeping her son entertained. In his high chair, the baby boy smiles toothlessly at her as she sings to him, moving her body to the music while keeping her attention focused to what’s on the stovetop.

If there’s one feature the boy’s inherited from Betty, it’s her smile; and in Jughead’s opinion, the kid’s beyond lucky to have it.

Betty moves expertly across the kitchen, her body twisting and turning in a way that makes him want to chuckle with wry amusement. Because _of course_ Betty Cooper can make even the simplest task of cooking look like an art form. It’s never mattered, in any situation, Betty has always moved with grace. She holds an old-time sort of elegance that’s rare in this day and age; and what’s truly beautiful, he thinks, is that she’s clueless to it.

Her grace, it comes natural to her.

Tobi spots his leaned position at the doorway and smiles brightly at him, pulling a small but genuine grin from Jughead as he lifts his fingers from his bicep to give a small wave.  

The longer he stares at the scene before him, the stronger Jughead feels an odd sort of tightening in his chest. Hotdog near Betty, tail wagging as she sneaks pieces of food to him, Tobi in his highchair, _‘Return to Me’_ playing in the background like some type of corny augury of his life...

It all feels so… _domestic_.

Brows furrowed, he pushes himself off the doorway and clears his throat, forcing nonchalance as he takes in Betty’s startled gasp. “Martin? I pegged you more as a Fitzgerald type.”

Betty raises the hand not holding a wooden spoon to her chest. “You scared me!” she huffs, though there’s a small smile on her face at seeing him.

“Sorry.” Jughead answers, not sorry at all. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he leans over her shoulder and takes a deep inhale of the food before him, his mouth-watering at the sight of it. “What’s this?”

Betty gives a small smirk before returning to her task. “This, Juggie, is Porcini tortellini. And before you say anything about how it looks, trust me, it tastes great!”

Jughead snorts, moving his finger to take a swipe at the sauce, narrowly dodging her smack, before stepping away and popping it into his mouth.

He refrains from moaning at the taste.

“I don’t even remember the last time I had a home cooked meal this good. Or a home cooked meal _at all_.” He tells her truthfully. Maybe some time last year when he visited Archie at his home in Los Angeles. He can’t much remember. Betty frowns at his statement and he quickly continues, not at all eager to have her pity. “Needs a bit more salt, though.”

At that, Betty looks back down to the dish with a thoughtful grimace, moving to taste it before nodding. “Right.”

Jughead offers his help, but she waves him off. “No, it’s almost done. I just need to set the table—“

“I’ll do it.”

Brushing the curls on Tobi’s head in passing, Jughead maneuvers around Hotdog before grabbing their dishes. When finished, pulling his chair up next to the baby and swiveling it around to straddle, Jughead leans his arms over the curve of it and gestures toward the food. “What brought this on? The whole ‘Betty Crocker’ thing, I mean. Not that I’m complaining—“

Betty gives him an amused roll of her eyes at the quip, but bites her lip in a way that tells him she’s trying not to smile too widely.

Jughead’s interest piques.

Turning off the stove, she claps her hands together and turns toward him with the widest smile he’s seen on her in years. His chest tightens again with that earlier feeling, but he ignores it and listens as she answers.

“I got a job!”

Blinking, Jughead doesn’t quite share her enthusiasm at first. Was she going to move out now? She’d only been there a month—she wouldn’t just split now that she had a job, would she?

Still, despite his racing thoughts, Jughead can’t help return her smile with his own.

Betty’s joy has always been infectious.

“Wow,” he nods, jutting his lips thoughtfully. “That’s—“

“Great, isn’t it?” she interrupts, looking at him with unbridled mirth before turning her body back around to give the dish another stir and bringing the pan to the table. “I mean, it’s not a demanding one. Not like Boston—but, _oh_ , Juggie, I get to write again! And I get to do it from home! Which means I don’t need to find someone to watch Tobi!”

Betty inhales deeply, her smile growing wider with the explanation as she pulls the baby’s high chair to her side before sitting down across from him.

Jughead’s swept away by her exuberance, and it’s not until his own cheeks begin to ache that he realizes he’s beaming at her with equal excitement. He flips his chair back toward the table and quickly stuffs his mouth with food. “That’s great, Betts—“

“ _And_ , they’re offering benefits!” Betty takes a large drink from her glass before catching his quirked brow and smirk before blushing prettily. Licking her lips, she sets her glass back down and tucks a flyaway behind her ear. “Sorry, I just… I’m excited to work again.”

“What’s it for?”

“It’s um,” Betty fidgets in her seat, slowing Jughead’s chewing as he watches her curiously. “It’s for _‘The Register’.”_

Jughead pauses mid-chew, his brows shooting toward his hairline at the response, but Betty’s quick to explain.

“The editor is actually really nice. She doesn’t—she doesn’t hold any grudges toward me because….”

“Your mom tried to set her car on fire after being sacked?”

Betty bites her lip, using her fork to toss the food around on her plate. Guilt slams into Jughead as he realizes his insensitive bluntness. He places his fork down and sighs. “I’m sorry,”

“No, no,” she shakes her head, her ponytail whipping at the motion. The smile she gives him is forced, but there’s a genuine undertone to it that eases the tension in his shoulders. She’s not mad. “It—Rosa offered me to write their obituaries. It’s not… it’s not the best, I know… But it’s okay…“

Jughead hates himself for dampening her mood. Like a needle to a balloon, he’d carelessly popped it and in turn tarnished her enthusiasm.

“No, it’s amazing.” He intervenes, scrambling to amend the damage. “It’s more than great.”

Betty’s lips twitch as her eyes lighten with the slightest glimmer of hope. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jughead nods, propping his elbow onto his folded knee. “Although, now I’ll actually have to _buy_ the paper.”

“You don’t have to buy it.” Betty chuckles, her mood brightening again. “You can download it on your phone.”

Jughead shakes his head, popping a mushroom into his mouth. “Unacceptable. I can’t collect clippings from my phone.”

“You’re going to clip out my work?” Betty furrows her brows, grinning at him in amused skepticism.

“Why not?” he shrugs, looking over toward the living room and pointing the fork in his hand toward the back wall. “That wall’s blank. We could fill it up with your pieces. Very 'modern art-esque'.”

“You don’t think having a wall covered in obituaries is a bit… I don’t know, morbid?” Betty chuckles lightly, turning her body to feed Tobi.

Jughead gives her a look. “Have you met me?”

“Point taken.” She laughs, shaking her head before reaching for a napkin to wipe Tobi’s face. Waving her hand as though abashed at focusing on herself, Betty lifts her eyes back to his. “But, enough about me! How was your day? How was work? Did Suzanne keep you longer? You’re usually back before six.”

Again, Jughead watches, besotted, as her cheeks flare up with color.

“N-not that I’m saying you have to be here at a certain time—I’m not, that’s not what I—“ Betty snaps her lips shut as Tobi squeals loudly, slapping his hand down onto the small plate of mushed peas and sending the green bits over her face.

Jughead tosses a rag at her and decides to spare her from further rambling.

“Yeah.” He lies, taking a swig of his drink and stuffing another heap of food into his mouth.

He doesn’t tell her he visited Polly’s grave. He doesn’t tell her he goes every week to remove the pink hydrangeas her mother leaves there to replace them with her actual favorite—tulips. He doesn’t tell her he remembers them being her departed sister’s favorite because that’s how it became her own. He doesn’t tell her he makes sure the grave stays visited because he knows she’s not quite ready to go herself yet.

He doesn’t tell her, because he doesn’t want to ruin this blissful moment of contentment between them.

Jughead wants to see the light in Betty’s eyes for as long as she’ll allow.

“Yeah, she kept me over.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _“''I love you' is the inscription on pandora's box."_  
>  _-Mason Cooley_
> 
> ◯

 

There’s talking vegetables on his television.

Never in his life would Jughead have imagined himself sitting at his desk, watching a cucumber sing about a giant chocolate bunny, whilst trying to research. Yet, here he was.

In front of him, Hotdog at his feet, Betty napping on the couch with Tobi on the floor, his eyes fall to the child gurgling at the screen. Tiny feet press up against the rug in his bouncer, the soft tunes of the toys on it adding to the sounds from the television.

Looking back to his laptop, Jughead brings his thumb to his lip, scratching the edge of it as he eyes the screen with a thoughtful look.

Somewhere out there, Betty has a niece.

Taken and put into the system at barely a week old—unable to live with the mother who was too ‘mentally unstable’ to care for her while in a psych home, and unwanted by the vicious grandmother who blamed the child for its inferior birth that, in her eyes, was the catalyst for every horrid thing to happen in Riverdale since Jason Blossom’s death.

A secret not even the Blossom’s knew—Alice Cooper played dirty, and she played it well. Of course, Jughead only knew any of this from Betty, who in turn only knew from the secrets she’d unfolded in her household herself.

Just six months before Hal Cooper would be sentenced, Betty had come to Jughead, asking his help to unravel the mystery of where the child had been sent to and if she’d been adopted yet. In Betty’s seventeen-year-old heart, she’d planned to take the child herself. She’d planned to find a way to get Polly out of the ward she was in, and they’d be a happy family, somewhere far away. In hindsight, it was a wishful thought at best, and one that never gained traction as their research and attempts to find the child always came up dry.

Sighing, Jughead runs a hand over his face and suppresses a yawn as Tobi starts to fuss. Glancing toward Betty’s sleeping form, he pushes himself from the desk and picks the baby up with practiced gentleness.

From the pit of his arms, Jughead lifts Tobi up slightly to give his bum a tentative sniff, only to exhale in relief when there’s no foul odor. Lowering the child back to his chest, he walks them toward the kitchen and pulls a bottle from the fridge.

“Okay, so you’re hungry, right?” he questions quietly, raising a brow when his only response is a snot bubble. “Me too, pal.”

Jughead prepares a bottle quietly, glancing every now and then to make sure his movements aren’t disturbing the sleeping blonde on the couch.

In the weeks since her position at _‘The Register’_ , Betty’s become exhausted; and not just because of the extra work.

Jughead knows she thinks he doesn’t see the constant lighting up of her phone. She thinks he’s too busy focused on other things to notice the avoidance she’s put between her and her mother. She thinks he can’t hear her conversations with her former in-laws at night, heatedly arguing about Tobi and beneficiaries, yada yada.

But the walls are thin, and Jughead’s attentive.

Like a sponge, he absorbs everything around him—even the minutest of details.

Snapping from his thoughts, he pulls the bottle off the stove and tests it the way Betty’s shown him before adjusting Tobi in his grip.

Feeding the baby isn’t something Jughead’s done often –  usually Betty liked to nurse herself, but he can admit he’s pretty proud that the child doesn’t put up a fuss, latching to the nipple of the bottle almost immediately.

Tiny hands jerk and wave in the air before settling on the bottle in his grip, and for one moment, Jughead wonders if this is what fatherhood feels like. He wonders if he’d be one should he and Betty have stayed together.

Of course, Jughead chides himself the instant the thought comes up. None of that matters, the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybes’. The love Betty has for her son is as radiant as the light she’s brought back into his life, and he knows if given the option to go back and change things, she wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t want her to.

Tobi’s gaze wonders up to the wall beside them and Jughead clings to the distraction. Scattered with snippets of the paper’s obituaries, he lifts a brow to the baby and curves his lips, turning them slightly so brown eyes face the pinned papers. “Neat, isn’t it? Your mom wrote those.”

Tobi continues to feed before Jughead purses his lips in mock thought, pacing along the stretch of the wall. “Here, this one is my favorite—‘ _Creator of the John Candy fanclub and the Ringo Starr appreciation night at Gunfire’s Karaoke Bar, Jillian Collins (nee Bennett), lost her battle with cancer on February 2th, and is now finally at peace. A generous and boisterous soul, she often regarded death with an open mind and as a new adventure—“_

Tobi interrupts him with a loud gurgle, cutting Jughead’s reading off.

“What? Boring? I haven’t gotten to the competitive needle-pointing bit yet. That’s the best part.” he says before snapping his gaze to Betty at her mumble from the couch.

His bare feet pad noiselessly on the rug as he moves to pull the throw blanket over her sleeping form. Hair out of it normal pony-tail, Jughead allows himself a quiet moment to observe the woman who haunts his dreams from only a wall’s separation and tears the ones down he tries to put up between them. Her arm above her head, Betty is serene in her slumber, not a frown or furrowed brow on her face.

Gray eyes trail the length of her arm until they reach her collarbone and then up to the curves of her cheeks.

Jughead knows which spots to kiss and make her sigh. He knows just how much pressure to put against her pulse point for her to keen. It’s almost a punishment to have her so close to him—to know the most intimate of details of her mind and body—yet have to distance himself.

Were his hands not full, he may have risked brushing his knuckles against her skin—just to feel its familiarity under his fingertips again.

But his hands are full; and though the years between who they were and who they are now are fewer than the number of times a day he has to check himself in order to not disrupt the amicable arrangement between them, Jughead knows at the nitty gritty of it all, Betty Cooper is still a grieving widow.

She doesn’t need the burden of his feelings on top of that and everything else in her life.

So he doesn’t brush her cheek like he wants to. He doesn’t feel her skin or tuck the strand of hair over her brow behind her ear.

Instead, Jughead moves away from her and back to his desk to finish feeding Tobi. He stares at the screen without looking, the image on it blurred and distorted from the distraction of his own tempestuous thoughts.

Tobi’s fingers grip the lapels of his jacket and Jughead feels the corners of his mouth twitch upward at the jostle from his thoughts.

“Okay, okay. So… what? You need to… burp, right? Yeah,” putting the now empty bottle down, he adjusts Tobi against him like he’s seen Betty do countless times and pats his back softly.

In distraction, his eyes flicker up to the bold text across his computer screen, reading the words with despondent regard;

_Hoping to help people reconnect to find answers, family, medical history and peace. Olive Leaf Adoption Registry and Genealogy._

With a flick of his wrist, the laptop snaps shut.

…. …. ….

There’s a crick in his neck from the horrible sleep he’d had the night prior and Jughead swivels his head to try and alleviate the tension in it. Another day at work, he’s eager to plant himself face first into his sofa. Maybe order take-out, or a pizza…

Sour-faced and tired, the steps to his front door halt at the moment it swings open with jerked force. When Jughead looks up, his eyes widen before his arms are full with a small brunette, her hair tickling his nose.

“Jellybean,” he smiles, pleasantly surprised to see his sister before pulling away to get a look at her. From the fire red corduroy pants to the cropped _Talking Heads_ tee, she mirrors his grin, clutching his shoulders tightly with happiness.

“Happy to see me, J?”


	5. Chapter 5

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _“I wasn’t looking for anything when I found you,  
>  and it somehow made me question what I wanted.   
> Was I ready for love? I don’t think anyone is ever ready,   
> but when someone makes you feel alive again,   
> it’s kind of worth the risk.”_  
>  _-Nikki Rowe_
> 
> ◯

“Jughead? Jug!”

Betty’s startled from her drowsy position at Jughead’s desk, her foot jerking back into its act of pushing against Tobi’s sleeper in a rocking motion. She looks up from her laptop to the teen waltzed into the room and sits straighter, foot pausing in its movement.

“Jellybean!”

The young teen smiles brightly, giving a little wave. “Hi.”

Betty stands from her position and clasps her hands in front of her as the light-haired brunette lifts a key up. “Didn’t mean to freak you out. Jug gave me a spare a while back.”

At the noises, Tobi’s woken from his nap and begins to cry, startling the two.

Waving her hand dismissively, Betty bends down to pick her son up. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I was falling asleep on the job anyway. Not exactly responsible on my end.” Standing up, she adjusts Tobi in her grip and smiles. “It’s so good to see you. How are you, JB?”

The younger girl’s eyes flicker to the baby as her knuckles bump together lightly. “I’m okay. Just here with Mom for… well,” there’s a wall suddenly put up that Betty’s seen all too well in Jughead, but she stays quiet, cooing Tobi down from his cries.

“He’s cute.” the younger girl changes the subject, giving a wave to Tobi who stares curiously at her through his whines.

“Thank you.” Betty's smile comes easier, glancing down at her son before snapping her head back up. “Do you want anything to drink? Eat? I made soup earlier—”

“Oh, no. Thanks. I’ll just wait for Jug.” Jellybean answers politely, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “Is he here?”

Betty settles herself onto the couch. “He’s at work, but he should be home soon. Probably in a half hour.”

“Oh,” Jellybean answers, plopping herself onto the recliner adjacent to the sofa. Her eyes are a darker shade of blue than Jughead’s, but the resemblance between brother and sister is uncanny. 

Shifting in the chair and playing with the side-braid resting over her shoulder, Jellybean grimaces. “I heard about what happened to your husband.”

Betty’s eyes snap up as her chest seizes, tightening up before she releases a shaky exhale. “…Yeah,”

Jellybean looks a little awkward but leans forward, bumping her knuckles together again. “I’m really sorry.”

Betty’s smile comes a bit strained but it’s genuine nonetheless. “Thank you.”

Jellybean sags a little into the chair and kicks her feet up onto the coffee table, using the furniture for a push to rock herself. “Is it weird? Living with Jug?”

“Weird?” Betty furrows her brows when seeing the younger girl lift her own. “Not at all. Juggie’s been really great. He’s… he’s helped me out a lot. Your brother’s a good man.”

“The best.” Jellybean’s lips quirk in a smirk as she regards her.

At the expression, Betty feels a small blush rise in her cheeks at how her own voice had lilted when talking about Jughead. Clearing her throat, Betty looks downward.

“You’re good, too.” Jellybean continues, a conspiratorial inflection to her tone. “I think he forgets that I know you, and how much you used to babysit me. He talks about you a lot.”

Betty blinks, surprised at the information as her heart leaps to her throat. “He does?”

“Oh yeah,” Jellybean nods, throwing her hand over the armrest to scratch Hotdog’s ears. “And Tobi, too. Even Mom wants to meet him.”

Heart still in her throat, it swells and seizes Betty’s ability to reply. Instead, she continues to fumble for words. Jughead talking to his mom and sister about her and her son? To the point Gladys wanted to meet him?

There’s a fluttering in her stomach, and she’s taken aback at the intensity of it.

“I—“ Betty clears her throat. “How long are you guys in town for?”

If Jellybean senses her flustered state, she doesn’t say. Instead, the teen tugs at cropped tee and grimaces. “Just until tomorrow. We’re heading over to my aunt’s afterward. Bingo and Sam got engaged apparently.”

“Oh, yeah, Jughead mentioned he got an email from him last week.” Betty answers politely, glancing to Tobi now falling back asleep in her arms as she thinks of the cousin Jughead introduced her to during a junior year camping trip. “That must be nice. Visiting them, I mean.”

Jellybean shrugs indifferently. “I guess. I’m just glad to see Jug again.”

“Your mom, is she at…?” Betty cuts herself off the minute Jellybean tenses up and gives a hard stare. “Sorry, it’s not my place.”

“She’s visiting my dad, yeah.” Jellybean responds in a clipped tone a moment after. After a tense moment of silence, she snorts, “She’s been badgering me to see him but…”

Reaching over, Betty places her hand on Jellybean's knee and gives it a squeeze, locking their eyes empathetically. “You don’t have to explain, Jellybean. I understand.”

And she really does.

Betty sees the realization dawn on the younger girl as her body loses its tension and her guard lowers once more.

“You don’t visit your dad either?” Jellybean queries curiously, slipping her foot back onto the floor as she leans forward, her walls now completely down.

“It’s been a year or so.” Betty answers reluctantly, not entirely comfortable with talking about her father. The silent cry for mutual understanding from the younger girl however, it forces Betty’s own guards to lower as she sighs and further explains. “I should, though. I should visit him more often. He’s been writing me to.”

“Have you forgiven him?” Jellybean asks quietly, looking back down to her brightly colored pants.

If it were any other person than Jellybean, Betty would take the question as tactless and intrusive; but given the slump of the girl’s shoulders and pinched brows, she knows it’s a topic not talked about often for her—a topic that seemingly  _needed_  to be.

“For what he did to my family? For lying?” Betty replies sardonically, snapping Jellybean’s gaze back to hers. She heaves a sigh and brushes her thumb against Tobi’s cheek, looking down at him lovingly. “I have.”

“How?” Jellybean clasps her hands together over her knees as her tone becomes bitter. “After everything—“

“I only forgave him after I had Tobi.” Betty tells her honestly with a dry chuckle. “After what happened with my sister—after…" she sighs heavily, "When you have kids, you learn that the cliché of seeing things differently isn’t really a cliché at all. I can't say whether or not his heart was in the right place, but I know he cares. I know he wishes he could've done things differently and I just... I just didn’t want to be angry anymore. I  _still_ don’t want to be…”

“But what if you can’t help it?” Jellybean asks after a short pause, absorbing her words. The air around them is heavy as the younger girl grimaces. “What if it’s too late to fix things?”

Betty frowns. “It’s never too late, JB.”

“I’m not stupid, you know. I know what my dad is—I know what he does. Jughead and Mom act like he can change but it’s been years. Always in and out of jail, it’s embarrassing.” She scoffs contemptuously. “If he didn’t care enough to change then, he’s not going to care now.”

“Jughead sees the good in your dad,” Betty tells her, phrasing her words carefully. “FP, he’s… You and I both know Jughead puts up a tough exterior, but he’s good. He  _wants_  to see good in people, especially your father. He wants more for your family, JB.”

“Jughead’s grown up, I’m almost eighteen; it’s a little late for a Brady Bunch reunion.”

“Addiction is…” Betty bites her lip, thinking to her own life experiences. “It’s difficult— _tricky_. But, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Jughead wouldn’t be holding out for FP's recovery if he'd given up on you.  _You_  are Jughead's priority. Your dad, he's... trying, I think.”

It doesn’t surprise Betty much when the teen scoffs, unsatisfied with the response. Jellybean is still young—and from their short, impromptu bonding over criminal fathers, it’s obvious there’s a lot of bottled resentment there. 

Before she can get another word in, Jellybean’s on her feet and looking toward the window near the front door. Betty turns her head as the girl rushes past her and smiles when she sees Jughead outside. She hears the brother and sister greet each other excitedly and stands up to put Tobi down in his crib, giving them their moment to catch up.

The tense atmosphere from moments prior is gone, now filled with jovial conversation out in the living room. Betty lingers at her bedroom door, hand on the knob as she stands at the threshold. For a moment, she considers staying in her room, just to give the two their time together before Jughead’s at the end of the hallway, hand resting against the corner wall.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey,” Betty responds lightly, her heart fluttering in her chest at his soft-eyed look.

She recalls Jellybean’s earlier words about him talking about her and Tobi to her and his mother and feels that fluttery feeling rush over her again.

Despite the fatigue his body carries and the dark rings under his eyes, Betty can’t help but admire how handsome Jughead looks. It’s almost effortless, she thinks, along with the natural charm and mystery he exudes in his messy style. Her thoughts leave her slightly winded as waves of emotion stir pleasantly in her stomach.

Unfortunately, Betty’s silence is too stretched out, and Jughead’s brows furrow in concern, mistaking her admiration as something else. He steps forward, hand falling to his side as his head tilts slightly. “You okay?”

Jostled out of her reverie, Betty runs a hand through her hair and chuckles almost nervously at where her thoughts had been taking her. “Yeah, no— I was, um, I was just putting Tobi down.”

“Yeah, you’re okay? Or, no, you’re not?” he cracks a teasing smile at her words, though the concern hasn't faded.

“Yes,” Betty answers, biting her cheek to keep from smiling too wide. “I’m good.”

She follows him out into the living room where Jellybean’s back on the recliner, rocking herself. “So, where are you taking us out, brother? Mom’s ready to be picked up and I’m starving.”

Jughead gives her a look as he nudges her boots off the coffee table. “Jellybean, why didn’t you go with Mom?”

The happy mood deflates as the girl glares at him. “Really? You don’t see me for months and the first thing you wanna talk about is Dad?”

“Jelly,”

“Can we just talk about other things?” she begs with a slight whine to her voice, leaning forward to grasp his hands. “Please?”

Betty stays silent as she picks up the toys on the floor, glancing discreetly at Jughead and seeing the confliction on his features at his sister’s plea. She keeps her thoughts to herself and moves to the kitchen to give them a bit more privacy, not leaving entirely to avoid coming off as rude.

There’s a bit of back and forth between brother and sister before a phone goes off and Jellybean excuses herself to take the call outside.

Jughead moves over to the kitchen, leaning himself against the wall as he folds his arms with a discontented look on his face.

Betty reaches out to give his elbow a small squeeze and sympathetic smile. There’s no words spoken, but she knows he takes her comfort with gratitude.

When Jellybean comes back in, she gives Jughead a look and stuffs the phone in her pocket. “Mom’s waiting. She said to hurry up.”

Jughead turns to Betty and lets his eyes flicker over her face, taking the breath from her at the tenderness in them. “Do you wanna join? I’m not sure where we’ll eat, but—“

“Oh,” Betty raises her hand, cutting him off with her next words. “no. No, thank you. You go! Spend some time with your family.”

Jughead’s brows furrow at her answer. “Are you sure? My mom and JB won’t mind—“

“Obviously not.” Jellybean adds, shooting Betty a smile.

“Thank you, really, but you three should spend time together.” Betty responds kindly, her hand moving without thinking to cup Jughead’s cheek. Her thumb strokes it gently before she realizes what she’s done and snaps it back to her side.  

At Jughead’s darkened gaze, Betty swallows thickly and avoids the raised brows and smirk from the girl beside them as she clasps her hands together in front of her. “I-I should probably visit my mom, too. She’s been threatening to drive over here if I don’t bring Tobi to see her soon.”

“Yeah... okay.” Jughead relents, his eyes not leaving her own. “I’ll tell my mom you say hi?”

“Please do!” Betty nods vehemently, hoping the older woman won’t take offense to her dismissal of the invitation. She turns to Jellybean, eager to distract herself from the heady gaze on her. “It was so good to see you again, JB.”

When Jellybean moves in for hug, Betty blinks in surprise but feels warmth spread over herself before returning the embrace with a soft smile. The thought that the little girl she used to babysit, the beloved sister of her first love, feels comfortable enough to talk with her and give hugs, it makes Betty feel nice.

“If you ever need to talk,” Betty begins quietly so Jughead won’t hear, a small hitch to her voice as the girl tenses against her. “about anything—you can call me. Or text, whatever. Jughead can give you my number.”

Betty’s only slightly surprised when Jellybean tightens her hold before pulling back to give a grateful look. “Thanks, Betty.”

“Of course.”

Jellybean turns to her brother and flips her braid over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

Once the teen’s out the door, Jughead turns back to her and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Want me to bring anything back for you? Or Tobi?”

Betty gives him a tender look, her lips curving in slight amusement. “I’m good, thanks. And so’s Tobi. I’m his personal milk machine, remember?”

Jughead chuckles, shifting the strange mood back into one they're used to—one they're comfortable with.

“Right..." he nods, "I’ll see you later tonight, then.”

She walks him to the front door. “Yeah.”

As Jughead turns to walk away, Betty’s hand shoots out and grabs his wrist without thinking. At his curious look, her gaze zeros in on the curl over his brow and the gray-blue of his eyes. Summoning the courage piqued at their touch, Betty threads her fingers between his own and leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth slightly before pulling back. When she speaks, her voice is a little airier than intended. “Be safe.”

Jughead’s eyes are wide as he stares at her, and she sees him swallow before he nods. “Yeah. You, uh, you too.”

When she shuts the door, Betty presses her back against it and holds a hand to her chest, feeling the racing of her heart thrum underneath it as she meditates on the way Jughead's lips felt against her own.

She's playing with fire, Betty realizes. Sparking a match over their amicable dynamic, but she doesn’t care. She hasn’t felt this smoke of exhilaration in  _years_. She hasn’t been touched in near two, and though there had been intimacy during her marriage with her late husband, his gambling addiction and illegal affairs had driven a stake through it early on.

There was care and affection with Lincoln, but never passion—no matter how hard she tried to create it between them.

With Jughead though…

Jughead’s look alone can spark flames in her, no touch needed. When he reads aloud at night to her and Tobi, poems from Sylvia Plath or Ted Hughes, his voice, low and soothing, it pools warmth into her belly without him even knowing. His kind regard for her, so natural and genuine—it illuminates the dark barriers inside her heart she’s spent years forging.  

Betty feels seventeen again.

She’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

Taking a deep breath in, she glances down toward the dog giving her a look through his shaggy hair beside her.

“What?” she raises a brow at him.

Hotdog’s head cocks to the side.

“Don’t judge me.” She tells the animal, only further forcing his head to tilt before she realizes how ridiculous she must look. Snorting in amusement to herself, Betty shakes her head and pushes herself from the door to check on Tobi.

Picking up her phone from her bed, she shoots a short text to her mom, inviting herself over for dinner, before bringing the baby monitor into the bathroom with her to get ready.

When she looks in the mirror, Betty sees a spark in her eyes and bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

How is it, that after years apart, Jughead’s lips still manage to bring her clarity?


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

> _▱◯♕_
> 
> _"He’s more myself than I am._   
>  _Whatever our souls are made of,_   
>  _his and mine are the same."_   
>  _-Emily Brontë_
> 
> _◯_

 

The lights are off when Jughead finally gets home—all but the one over the porch in the backyard. Its light pours through the blinds and onto the carpet floor of the living room, illuminating the room just the tiniest bit to navigate through with his hands full.

Shrugging his coat off, he notices Hotdog lift his head from the sofa to acknowledge him before lowering it back down in lazy disinterest. From down the hallway, there’s another sliver of light coming from Betty’s door, like the dim glow of a candle. Warm and inviting.

Depositing his things on the coffee table, without thinking, Jughead’s feet carry him down until he’s at her door, raising his knuckles to knock lightly against it, forcing it open wider at the touch.

The air escapes his chest at the sight that greets him.

Legs exposed, hair mussed, Betty lays in her bed with Tobi beside her, her phone lifted as she watches something off it with a low volume. The movement of the door forces her eyes to snap up to him and he’s further winded by the way her surprise melts to tenderness at the sight of him.

“Juggie,” she greets, clicking her phone off and slowly extracting herself from Tobi’s side, placing a pillow at the edge before walking toward him.

Jughead’s eyes trail her legs until they reach the cuff of her short shorts, peeking out from the flannelled shirttail on her body.

Betty catches his roaming eyes and he admires the small blush that rises because of it. But he’s still speechless, his tongue heavy and dry like it’s been filled with sand. However, with a lick of his lips, Jughead gains his voice back and points to the shirt, looking up at her. “That’s… my shirt.”

He sees the moment she realizes that she is, indeed, wearing his clothing.

Betty’s hands pull at the cuffs of the sleeves before tucking her hair behind her ear and jutting her chin up defiantly. “It _was_.” She quips, folding her arms over her chest. “You gave it to me in junior year, remember? So… technically, it’s mine.”

Jughead feels an eruption of _something_ in his chest. A feeling conjured up earlier that evening when Betty had kissed the corner of his mouth—except now, it’s exemplified at the sight of her and her adorably defensive remark.

Without thought, his hand reaches forward and rests over the loose button near her breasts, swallowing at the sharp intake of breath his action prompts from her. But Jughead’s hand doesn’t linger. Instead, he does the button up and moves his hand further up to fix the collar at her neck.

Betty’s stare on him is like a thousand flames being lit up at once inside him, but Jughead merely gives a slight curve to his lips as he answers. “I remember.”

Her eyes dart to his lips, a primal look overtaking her features that he remembers quite well—she’s debating with herself on something, internally.

Even with the candlelight ambiance and the quietness of the moment, the last thing Jughead wants to do is make her uncomfortable, so he drops his hand and nods down the hallway, quickly changing the subject. “I brought you something.”

Blue eyes snap back to his own and Betty’s jostled out of whatever reverie she’d been caught in. The smile she gives him is softer, more playful, as she turns to grab her baby monitor before following him out the room and onto the couch, taking the spot of a very disgruntled Hotdog.

“Go on, get.” Jughead shoos the dog before he pads out the doggy door into the backyard.

Leaning forward, Jughead grabs the box on the table and hands it to Betty, watching her face light up at the contents.

“Oh, my god,” she beams, ripping the plastic off the small box. “I haven’t had these in _years_!”

Truffles from the local Sweet Shoppe, Jughead knows they were Betty’s favorite—or _are_ , if her reaction now is any indication.

“Jellybean wanted something sweet after dinner. I saw them and remembered how much you used to like them.” He explains, scratching his eye and smiling when she pops one into her mouth with a low hum of appreciation.

“Pop’s and Bernie’s are just about the only good shops in this town.” She tells him, lifting the box in an offering for him to take a treat as well.

It’s rich on his tongue and he watches silently as Betty takes a second piece before placing the box back on the coffee table. Her attention turns back to him, her body much more relaxed. “Dinner went well then? How’s your mom?”

“She’s good.” Jughead answers, thinking to the nice time he’d had with his family. He gives a recount of the discussion between his sister, mother, and himself—enjoying the feel of just talking with someone who _actually cares_ to listen.

The conversation, it’s not pressured or forced.

It feels nice.

When he’s done, he reaches for another chocolate and nods at her. “What about you? You end up taking Tobi to see Alice?”

Betty nods, her smile dimming only the slightest bit as Jughead’s brow furrows, immediately suspicious. “She didn’t—“

“She’s changing, Jughead.” Betty speaks before he can ask if everything’s alright. Her arm comes up over the sofa to prop her chin on, body angled toward his. “I don’t know how to explain it, but, I think my being here is part of it.”

“What do you mean?” Jughead asks, swallowing his food and propping one foot on the coffee table to rest his arm over his knee.

Betty shakes her head, lowering her eyes with a dejected sigh. “I asked her why she still stays here. You know, in Riverdale. I mean, after everything—dealing with everyone’s talking and… the _gossip_...”

Jughead grimaces as she continues explaining. “She stays here because of Polly.”

Betty’s eyes lift to his, heavy with emotion. “I think she carries a lot of guilt. She… I think she stays here as some kind of penance, or something. I don’t know. Like, visiting Polly’s grave all the time and staying in that house all by herself… I just…”

“Well, she does go every Friday.” Jughead nods, aware of the woman’s schedule and reputation around the town. While he hasn’t spoken to Alice Cooper in years, he knows firsthand how people have the ability to change over time. He also knows how guilt can cement a person in a stagnant position. “Maybe she feels like if she leaves the town, she’s leaving Polly.”

When Jughead looks back up, he feels a uneasy twist in his gut at Betty’s piercing gaze. Trying to think of what he’d said to elicit a look, he hides his nervousness. “What?”

“How do you know that?” Betty asks seriously, “How do you know my mom goes to Polly’s grave every Friday? I never told you that.”

Oh.

Fuck.

Jughead’s lips part as his mind short circuits in panic. He brings a hand up to scratch behind his neck, trying to scramble for a believable excuse. “I… sure you did. You told me—“

“It’s you.” Betty breathes out suddenly, her features slowly melding from scrutiny to revelation. Her hand falls to her lap as she stares intensely at him, her look alone pinning him into the ugly orange and green sofa he desperately wants to hightail from under the expression.

“Wh—“

“The tulips.” She interrupts as he witnesses the gears begin to turn in her head. Her eyes widen as they flicker over face. “Mom said someone’s been leaving tulips at Polly’s grave for—for _years_. She said… She didn’t— It’s you, isn’t it?”

Jughead exhales through his nose roughly, slumping further against his seat while hoping Betty won’t be miffed at the knowledge of him visiting her dead sister’s grave for so long without telling her. He studies her stiff posture, holding his breath as she releases a shaky one. “Okay, yes… But, let me expl—“

Before he can even speak his full apology, Jughead’s silenced as she cuts him off. Her body, warm and smooth, is pressed against him as her lips meld against his own. After registering the fact that Betty is kissing him— _kissing him_ —Jughead brings his hands up to cradle the back of her head earnestly, pouring back every desperate yearning he has for her against her lips.

She’s like a hazy dream come to life—her hands pushing the beanie off his head while scraping her fingernails against his scalp with just the right amount of pressure to make him groan through their fervid entanglement of tongues.

Betty pulls back and Jughead can only gaze with awestruck disorientation at the augmented affection she exudes toward him. There are tears in her eyes that he reaches his thumbs up to wipe gently at before she breathes a low incredulous laugh over him, tickling his skin.

“Why did you—How did you know?” she whispers waveringly, her tone heavy for truth and understanding. “About the tulips… How did you remember they were her favorite?”

Jughead stares at her meaningfully, taking in the swell of her lips and the feel of her thighs on his own. He takes in the scent of chocolate from her mouth and the lavender of her shampoo. He takes in the light of her eyes—colors like cerulean waves, with the dangers of being lost in them just as deep.

When he answers, Jughead lets his thumb drag across her cheek, spreading the wetness her tears had left over the skin.

“Because,” He replies quietly, bare with honesty. “they're yours.”

When she kisses him again, Jughead responds immediately, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

He loathes the moment to let her go.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd
> 
> Quick thank you for all the positive responses I've gotten for this story. You are all so wonderful. xoxo

> _▱◯♕_
> 
> _“I could have every_  
>  _single inch of your body_  
>  _pressed tight against mine_  
>  _and I’d still say,_  
>  _‘pull me closer’”_  
>  _-K.F._
> 
> _◯_

His breath is hot on her neck, added with the dizzying sensations of his tongue—Betty’s in bliss. Shirts discarded, Betty digs her fingers into Jughead’s shoulders, pulling him closer until skin melds into a beautiful entanglement of writhing bodies. She wants them to be so close that if anyone were to see them, they wouldn’t know where she ended or he began.

From the sofa they’d been on, Betty and Jughead had moved into his bedroom and onto his bed. She’d plopped right onto the goose-feathered pillows and strewn blankets before he followed above her. Heated kisses and heavy breaths, she swears they’re teenagers again—trying to be quiet in their secrecy inside her pink bedroom or in one of the stalls at Pop’s. Except now, they’re quiet for different reasons—namely, one baby still sleeping in her room beside his.

When he grits out her name, Betty shushes him, because she hasn’t felt this fire in years— _years_! She doesn’t care if she gets burned, scalded or scarred. She wants it all, everything—and she doesn’t want it to get cut short.  

The feelings for the man she knows to be her first love have never been gone, merely dormant. Tucked away in the deepest corners of her heart while she tried to figure out her own problems, identity and motherhood. Even years after their break-up, when she’d still been married, Betty would sit at her windowsill or cubicle and catch herself thinking of Jughead. A woman’s silly conjurations of some Hallmark reunion or an alternate universe where things hadn’t gone to shit so early on in their lives.  

What it came down to was, Jughead had never been far from her thoughts.

But now, not only had she seen him again, but she was here, in his bed! She can touch him and feel his closeness. And boy, does she love having him this close. So close, his mouth hovers over a rosy nipple, his breath searing the flesh there like a branding.

“Careful,” Betty whispers, biting her lip. “I’m still…”

“Sensitive?” Jughead guesses softly, bringing his fingers up to give the tender mound an experimental squeeze.

Betty thanks the heavens above for breastfeeding before he’d arrived home, but her insecurities are for naught, because it’s only seconds later that his lips encase her flesh and give a long groan of pleasure.

Betty’s eyes flutter close as he begins to ravish her, moving his lips and hands in such an artful way, she writhes like a marionette pulled by his strings. Jughead treats her body like gold, worshipping her with his hands and tongue. When his fingers tug at her panties with a question in his eye, Betty nods with a ragged exhale, the muscles in her stomach tightening as molten heat pools at her center in anticipation.

“I…Jughead,” she pants quietly, giving just an air of uncertainty that causes him to pause above her, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Do—Should I stop?” he asks in a strained voice, slightly out of breath with flushed cheeks.

Shaking her head at the question, Betty’s eyes widen. “No! No, don’t! I just…”

“What is it?” Jughead asks in a softer tone, bringing a hand up to push the damp and frizzy locks from her forehead.

Betty looks down in slight embarrassment before catching his gaze. “It’s, um… it’s been a while for me. Since… since Tobi’s conception.”

She doesn’t expect the sharp chuckle of amusement he gives and feels her brows pinch together in befuddlement. However, before she can even have the chance to become self-conscious at his response, Jughead answers while placing a kiss at the curve of her jaw.

“Try the night before graduation.” He quips against her skin before pulling away to gauge her reaction.

Without meaning to, Betty’s eyes widen as her lips part in shock. She’s jolted, stunned— _elated_?

“You… that was with….” Her words fail her as what he’s admitted _really_ sinks in. _She_ was his only…?

The light in Jughead’s eyes dim somewhat solemnly, but only slightly. His hand continues to pet her hair away, his thumb smoothing out arch of her brow.

“I haven’t—I _can’t_ —“ he gives a sigh of frustration and looks away for a moment before speaking again in a firmer tone. “You’re the only one, Betty. You’re the only one who… I don’t…”

He struggles with his words, but Betty’s heard enough. Her hands cup his face as she brings him down for a slow, languid kiss. Whatever’s unspoken between them is poured out in the movement of their lips; for a moment, Betty thinks there are tears clinging to the corners of her eyes, brought forth by the sheer wave of emotions their union brings, but she can’t be sure. Her focus is entirely on the way Jughead feels against her—his tongue in her mouth and his unkempt hair, free from his beanie, tickling her cheeks.

“Please, Juggie” she begs, uncaring of how shamelessly erotic she sounds. “Please, please, _please_ —“

Jughead’s pupils are blown at her soft cries, his breathing picked up. “Wh—“

“I need you,” Betty interrupts desperately, raising her body to drag against his own. “I need you inside me, right now, Jughead.”

He groans gutturally above her, tilting her head for another kiss. Except this time, it’s frenzied and wild. When he slips inside her, Betty pulls away to arch against him, head tossed to the pillows in a shuddering moment of fulfillment. He feels like stardust and passion and top down, wind in your hair freedom. He feels like unconditional love and she forgets to be quiet as a high-pitched whine leaves her throat.

“Fuck,” Jughead groans, dropping his head to her shoulder and savoring the moment just as she has. When he begins to move his hips, Betty knows for certain there are tears in her eyes. An abundance of emotions she’d kept deep inside her awaken at his ministrations, arousing not only her flesh but her spirit.

They move in desperation as the gap of seven years between their last time together and now is sewn shut with each fervid stroke. Stitched at the seam, the time between them is gone and the familiarity of their bodies and personal proclivities are acted upon with undisputed knowledge.  

At the peak of completion, Betty feels Jughead’s hand grasp her chin, angling her head to stare down at her. Their breathing intermingles as their open mouths graze one another—not quite kissing, but neither wanting to pull away.

“Don’t look away.” Jughead demands with an undertone of pleading.

The intensity in his eyes and the gruff catch of his voice tip Betty over the edge of nirvana. She holds his gaze as her body clenches around him, lips grazing his own as they widen in a silent scream. She’s so lost in pleasure that she doesn’t feel him follow her in climax until a few moments later when the warmth inside her elevates and he dips his head into the crevice of her neck before pulling out and falling to her side in a sweaty mess.

“Fuck,” Jughead repeats, bringing a hand up to push his hair from his face before moving it to run over her hips lovingly.

“Yeah,” Betty breathes out tiredly, but fully satisfied. There’s a million things she wants to say, a million proclamations and declarations—but all she manages is a soft sigh of content as her lips curve in an airy smile.

Her eyelids flutter shut without meaning to and the last thing she feels is her hair being pushed away before Jughead’s lips linger on her forehead.

_“I love you.”_

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

 

 

 

>  ▱◯♕
> 
> _"Grief is the price  
>  we pay for love."_  
>  _\- Elizabeth II_
> 
> ◯

Betty wakes up to sunlight on her face; gossamer beams filtered through dusty white shutters that paint themselves over her body still entangled in Jughead's dark blue sheets. There's a short moment of incognizant bliss, a drowsy illusion of peace. But suddenly, the quiet is stifling and her thoughts turn immediately to her son.

Jumping from the mattress, Betty doesn't bother with clothes, only wrapping the sheet around her as she sprints from Jughead's room to her own, only to realize Tobi's not inside it.

Fear seizes her heart until she hears the sounds of a children's show from the living room, along with the unmistakable jingles of his toys. Rushing out into the space, Betty holds the knot of the sheet in the center of her chest, feeling her heartbeat race beneath the skin as her breathing evens out.

"Hey,"

Jughead's voice pulls her attention away from Tobi, and she looks up to see him sitting up from a slouched position on the couch at her presence.

Tobi looks up at her from his bouncer and begins to bounce excitedly, kicking his feet against the carpet as his hands reach out for her. Smiling at his scrunched happy face, Betty leans down and pulls him to her, cradling his head as she peppers his face with kisses. "Hi, baby boy."

Tobi gurgles as Jughead leans forward to rest his arms on his knees. "I fed him about an hour ago, but uh, he drank the last of what was in the fridge."

Betty feels her chest tighten with gratitude and something else entirely at Jughead's statement. As she sees the smile he gives her and Tobi, she realizes what she's feeling, is love.

Hard as concrete, the realization hits her and she feels her eyes mist slightly with the overwhelming feeling. Unfortunately, as observant as Jughead is, he notices her tears and stands up, concern etched on his face. "Whoa, hey—"

Her lips curl in a slow smile as she chuckles, shaking her head. “Sorry,”

“You okay?” Jughead questions, tucking the hair she’s sure resembles a rat’s nest, behind her ear.

Betty’s more than okay, but her throat is too tight just looking at him to answer. His blue-gray eyes stare at her intensely, and she's sure he has the ability to delve deep inside her mind with a look alone, uncovering the secrets within. Or at least, that what it _feels_ like.

Leaning forward, Betty kisses his cheek before pulling away to place Tobi back into his bouncer.

Straightening up, she holds the knot to the sheet around her tightly and looks up at Jughead through her lashes. “Mind watching him for another twenty minutes while I shower?”

Jughead’s lips curve upward.

“I think we’ll be alright.” He replies before looking down to the baby now entranced by the new program playing on the television. “Right, Tobs?”

He’s so naturally nurturing, Betty wonders if he even realizes it.

After a quick shower, she goes out to the kitchen to prepare lunch while basking in the newfound plethora of emotions overtaking her. There are so many things she thinks about during her cooking, and even when she watches Jughead place Tobi in his high chair, Betty’s still overwhelmed. She loves him.

She's _in love_ with him.

His chin falls to her shoulder as she finishes up their grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup and hears him sniff the air appreciatively.

“Cuisine _a la_ Betty,” she jokes, turning her face and feeling a spike of excitement shoot up through her when he doesn’t pull away.

Instead, Jughead tilts his head and captures her lips in a slow, languid kiss.

It's the type of kiss that waters the withering aches deep in the trenches of her heart, giving life to its decayed state and tending it into something evergreen. All worries of what their night together had meant melt away with each stroke of his tongue, and Betty puddles under his touch, slumping into his embrace as if his lips themselves are an elixir.

When they pull away from one another, their gazes hold tight for just a moment more before he moves to get their drinks.

For the majority of the day, Betty wonders if this is really her life, or if she’s stepped inside a dream.

The years have taken their toll on her state of mind, and she’s no stranger to the nagging feeling of anxiousness when things are _too_ nice. But now, later in the evening and on the sofa beside Jughead while she feeds Tobi, Betty feels a joyful contentedness; and there’s not even an inkling of anxiety to accompany it.

Instead, she feels peace. And as God as her witness, she never believed she could feel it again so soon after everything.

Hearing Jughead talk with Jellybean on the phone however, she feels it in waves— _peace_.

A day of absolute lounging, it’s barely seven in the evening as her lids begin to droop before a painful pinch to her nipple jolts her back to alertness. “Ow,” She murmurs to Tobi with a playful huff, wincing at the tenderness of her breast. "No biting, or it's only bottles for you, mister."

Tobi only stares at her with his large eyes and she softens under his gaze. "Hm, you're forgiven."

She lets the soothing tenor of Jughead's voice lull her into a relaxed state, and without meaning to, she dozes off again, only awakening a short time later when a hand rubs itself along her arm.

“Betts,”

Betty groans in response, too tired to articulate words.

A chuckle is her only reply before she feels Tobi being taken from her arms and her shirt being adjusted. A dopey smile flits across her face as her lids flutter open, watching Jughead be extra careful not to wake her son up.

“I’m going to put him in his crib.” He tells her before walking down the hallway and out of sight.

Despite the urge to fall back asleep, Betty’s dry throat forces her from her comfy position to grab a glass of water. However, as she walks toward the kitchen, the image on Jughead’s laptop stops her mid-step.

Suddenly, she’s wide awake. All traces of drowsiness erased at the bold letters glowing on the screen;

_Midville Adoption Records – Trace Your Ancestry!_

Upon walking closer, she sees a few more windows open with school records and an image of a little girl in front of a shopping center wearing a girl scout uniform.

Betty leans down and feels the breath inside her rush out at the rich red pigtails and bright baby blue eyes.

The air around her thins as her vision blurs and when Jughead speaks from the other side of the room, Betty jumps, startled.

“This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

Jughead inches closer, his face fixed in a conflicted expression as he stares at her, gauging her reaction.

“You…” Betty swallows the knot in her throat as she looks away from him and back to the smiling girl in the photo. “Is this… Olivia?”

“Her name is Amber.” He explains, watching her closely. “Amber Powell.”

Of course, Betty swallows. New family, new name.

"Polly..." Her heart hammers erratically as the tears in her eyes spill over, trailing down her cheeks. So many questions race through her mind, so many blank spaces of what she’s just discovered—but one stands out; “How did you find her? It’s—It was a closed adoption.”

“Ambition and years of clever tricks.” Jughead jokes quietly, trying to ease the tension building up around them.

To Betty, however—she hears the word _years_ and snaps her head up, mouth parting as her brows furrow. “ _Years_? How-how long have you been looking?”

Jughead doesn’t respond right away, caught in the web his own words have spun him in. But as her eyes linger on him, waiting for an answer, he evasively responds, “A while.”

“How long, Jughead?” Betty pushes, voice wavering as her fingers curl into a fist on her lap. She _needs_ to know. She needs—

She needs answers.

His lips thin into a grimace. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!” she scoffs incredulously, blinking up at him as she wipes the tears from her face. “You—! Jug, you—you—“

“I was going to tell you.” He interrupts, his grimace now deepened into a frown as he mistakes her overwhelm for something else. There’s apprehension clouding his eyes as he stares at her, but Betty’s too shaken by this revelation to assure him she’s not mad. She's not sure herself what she is. “I just found out today—I swear I was going to tell you.”

“I need… I need a minute.” She finally manages before rushing to the backdoor, sliding it open to step out into the chilly night.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Betty slides down the wall and ducks her head between her knees as images and memories of her sister flood her mind.

_Polly..._

Grief coils inside her gut, and Betty can do nothing but slap a hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs that rip out from her chest at the unfairness of it all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd, forgive errors

 

 

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _“You must remember this_  
>  _A kiss is still a kiss_  
>  _A sigh is just a sigh_  
>  _The fundamental things apply_  
>  _As time goes by”_  
>  _—Frank Sinatra, As Time Goes By_
> 
> ◯

Betty stays away for the next two days after the discovery of her niece. 

Back to her mother's house, she stays in her old bedroom. Of course, Alice is overjoyed at her return, but Betty's sure to emphasize her visit is brief and temporary. She disguises her inner conflictions with the white lie of just wanting to give her mother proper time with Tobi. But as she watches her mother make silly sounds while feeding her son mushed peas, Betty's hit with such a strong wave of grief. 

She thinks of Polly, and the fact she never got to experience this—the witnessing of her child bonding with their grandparent. She never got to watch her child grow, or had them fall asleep against her chest and feeling joy just by the mere action of their breathing; no, Polly never got any of that. 

And now, Polly's gone. 

Betty's eyes roam the living room, scanning the array of family photos littered about and on display for non-existent visitors. To a stranger, the family in these photos look close— _happy_. They look like the sort who might have family dinners every week, or game nights.

Standing up from her chair, Betty wanders to a photo of them all; her father, her mother, her sister, and her. A photo taken only weeks before Polly was sent away.

Betty’s fingers glide over the frame, leaving smudged stains from the oil on her thumb. The people in the photo look happy, but Betty doesn't know them. They're strangers. Individuals who were too dysfunctional to hold even _one_ honest conversation with each other. An illusion of white-picket fence, shadowing the cracks in their perfect façade. 

Bright eyes and long blonde hair, Polly's smiling in the picture, holding her hands in a strange movement over her abdomen. Lightning quick, Betty realizes she must have known she was pregnant then. She must've been on the verge of planning an escape with Jason. Without meaning to, words spill from her lips before her brain can catch up with the consequences of their approach. 

"Do you regret it?" 

They come out ragged, choked.

When Betty turns around, Alice is only a few feet behind her, hands folded in front of her as her eyes glisten with unshed tears as if she'd been caught under the same reminiscing of Polly's existence and untimely demise.

Her mother's tongue darts out, trying to hide the tremor of her lips but failing. There's no need for clarification, Betty realizes. She sees the question register clearly in her mother's gaze, but in turn emphasizes anyway, too overwhelmed to keep silent.

"Do you regret taking the baby away from Polly? Separating a mother from her child?”

Alice swallows as she takes a step forward, reaching her arm out to take the frame from Betty's grasp slowly. "I..." 

Despite her turbulent emotions, anger and resentment at the cusp, there's a small smidgen of sympathy at her mother's obvious sorrow. But Betty keeps her shoulders rigid and holds her stance, awaiting an answer. "Mom," 

"I regret... _so_ many things, Elizabeth." Her mother finally admits as a few tears leak out, her head dipping while she gazes at the photo in her grip. Knuckles turn white as she clenches it tightly, "But taking that choice from her—that’s my greatest." 

Betty's stoic stance falters as her mother's voice cracks, and she’s helpless to the escape of her own tears. 

"I think about it every day." Alice continues, reaching her hand up finally to wipe her cheeks as her mascara smudges under her lashes. "I just wish—" her breath hitches before she tries again, clenching her eyes shut. "I _hope_ she knows h-how sorry I am." 

She wishes hearing the words after so many years would make the bitter part of her dissipate, but all Betty feels is deep, deep grief. So heavy and ominous, it chokes the sensibilities inside her. A grief for her sister and the years stolen from her by a bottle of pills; grief for the child who was robbed her mother and father by circumstances not in their control; grief for a set of families—the Blossoms, her mother, _her_ —the families hit with the severity of their losses.

Her chest tightens and constricts as her stomach knots up, suddenly heavy with the weight of bottled emotions. The back of her hand swipes over the moisture on her cheeks and she takes another plunge.

“She could’ve been here with us.” Betty tells her coarsely, thinking to the little girl she’d seen smiling up at her through Jughead’s computer. Her nails dig into her palm as she tries to calm down. “Polly and Olivia, they could’ve been here—“

Alice stiffens at the names—her eyes snapping back open, glossy and full of anguish. When she responds, her voice is harsh but tremulous. “You don’t think I know that, Elizabeth? You don’t think I have to _live_ with that every day of my life?”

“Mom,”

“I’m a terrible mother!” Alice shouts, startling Tobi as he begins to cry from his high chair, face covered in messy peas. But her mother’s not done. Mascara smeared and lips stained red, she continues in a broken voice as if Betty’s opened a dam that had been cracking at the seams. “Is that what you want to hear? How I failed this family? How I—How I _killed_ Polly?!”

Betty’s face crumples at her mother’s anguish and she takes a step forward, “You didn’t—“

“I did.” Alice places a hand over her chest as she chokes her next words out through the guilty sobs, “I did, Elizabeth. I killed her.”

Before she can even process her mother’s guilty confession, Alice turns and leaves. Betty wants to follow her; she wants to convince her not to drive in her condition, knowing the full well the extent of the dangers it could bring, but she’s frozen. Her feet, immobilized by the heavy sorrow inside her. Yes, her mother had forced Polly into an institution. She’d taken Olivia and sent her with CPS. But it was Polly who’d taken the pills. Driven to the edge by the loss of her fiancé, her freedom, and her child—she’d succumbed to the demons in her mind.

Tobi continues to wail from his high chair, uneased by the yelling and lingering tension in the room. When Betty picks him up, he feels a thousand times heavier than normal and she collapses to the floor, crying alongside him. Dipping her forehead onto his own, Betty shakes with unsuppressed sobs and wishes with everything in her that she had just a semblance of control over her life.

… … …

Her mother returns home later that evening, locking herself in her room without a word.

Betty lies on her floral bedspread, Tobi by her side as he chews on his teething ring. She stares aimlessly at the wallpaper for what feels like hours. Her face is puffy from the tears she’s cried, and her head pounds something awful, but when her phone dings with a text message, she frowns when a message from Veronica glows on the screen:

_Look out your window._

Confused, Betty walks to her window and pushes the curtain back before seeing a familiar raven-haired woman in Archie’s old bedroom. Her mouth parts as she quickly dials her friend’s number, watching her pick up.

“Milkshakes at Pop’s?” Veronica asks with a quirked brow, no greeting or explanation.

When they finally make it to Pop’s after a strained and tense silence, Betty can no longer hold back the question as she adjusts Tobi against her. “What are you doing here, V?”

Veronica smiles to the waitress as their shakes are placed in front of them before turning her gaze back to Betty, a soft look in her eye. “Well, I just wrapped up filming and decided I needed to visit my girl. It’s been months since we’ve seen each other. Not to mention, Mr. Andrews has been trying to get Archikins and I down here for ages now.”

“Really?” Betty raises a brow skeptically as her fingers play with the straw in front of her. “Because last time we skyped you said your filming was going to be at least another six weeks.”

Rolling her eyes, Veronica folds her arms onto the table and leans forward.

“Okay,” she stresses, drawing the word out. “I might have also received a call from Jim Stark. He—B, he told me what happened. About… about Olivia.”

At the mention of Jughead and her niece, Betty’s brows pinch as she looks down into her melting milkshake. “…her name’s Amber now.”

Veronica’s silent for a moment before asking, “How did he even find her?”

Blinking, Betty chuckles humorlessly and shakes her head, feeling her throat close. “I have no idea. He’s been searching for years, apparently. _Years_ , Veronica.”

At this, her friend’s eyes widen before she nods, looking to her milkshake and playing delicately with its straw. “How very Dale Cooper of him.”

“It’s not just that, he’s…” Betty shakes her head, twisting the straw between her fingers. “he’s been…”

Words are a struggle, and it’s difficult to properly describe what it is she’s trying to say exactly. Her emotions are complex, and right now, the love for her old boyfriend is tangled in the chaotic mess of her other personal issues. Frustrated that things can’t just be simple for once, Betty huffs and places her hand on the table, only twitching her lips in appreciation when Veronica reaches out to clutch it in her own.

“It’s okay, I get it.” Veronica smiles at her, looking up at her with understanding. “He and Archie talk. Honestly, they’re schoolgirls, the two of them.”

An image of Jughead and Archie laying on a bed like a couple of teenage girls, swinging their feet in the air with their chins propped by their hands pops in her head in a silly image and Betty feels the tension in her shoulders drop as she chuckles with amusement this time.

“He’s been going to Polly’s grave.” She finally gets out, voice lowered by the sheer weight of emotions inside her. “I talked with the groundskeeper at the cemetery yesterday. Apparently he’s been leaving flowers there for years. And they’ve even said he’s been seen on few occasions cleaning her headstone.”

“Really?” Veronica’s brows shoot up at the new information and her lips purse slightly, as if impressed. “He’s never mentioned that.”

“He wouldn’t.” Betty answers, the corners of her lips twitching. “He’s so… _selfless_. I only found out by accident myself. And he remembered. He remembered what flowers were her favorite.”

When she realizes she’s smiling, Betty’s slightly startled, but only barely. Such dire emotions these past few days, reasons for smiling have been few, but just thinking of Jughead, Betty has no control of the comfort and solace the mere thought of him brings her. Across from her, Veronica looks pleased with the shift in mood and smiles knowingly at her.

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Her friend shrugs nonchalantly, taking a sip of her drink. “Love— _real_ love, is selfless. Jughead would do anything for you, Betty. We all know he would. He’s been in love with you since sophomore year. _You_ are the Ilsa to his Rick.”

“This is different.” Betty taps her nails against her glass, feeling the moisture from its condensation stick to her fingers. “This is so much more than love. Juggie and I, we’re…”

Veronica’s listening intently as Betty pours her heart out, looking down at her son. “I’m in love with him, Veronica, but it’s different. It’s _more_ than love. I, I don’t even know if that makes sense, but,  _God_ , the way he makes me feel; the way he cares for Tobi, I just—“

The words halt on her tongue as Veronica’s eyes snap up and behind her, over her shoulder. The small jingle of Pop’s door opening alert her to her friend’s distraction, and before she even turns around, Betty knows it’s him.

She looks over her shoulder and feels the mounted pressure of the past few days simmer the chaos inside her by just the sight of him.

His beanie gone in a rare instance, his eyes fall from Archie beside him to her. Despite the beaming smile her red-headed friend gives to seeing her, Betty’s gaze doesn’t fall from Jughead’s. She sees the hesitation in his stance and the question in his eyes at her feelings of him being there without them having had a proper talk yet.

Biting her lip, Betty’s gaze flickers briefly to Tobi before looking back up to the two men. “Join us?”

Jughead’s eyes soften as he steps forward, hands pulling out from his pockets. “We’d love to.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd - thank you for being patient during the wait, things have just been an absolute mess for me - anyway, enjoy xoxo

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _My sorry name has made it to graffiti_   
>  _I was looking for someone to complete me_   
>  _Not anymore dear_   
>  _Everything has changed_   
>  _—Elbow, Mirrorball_
> 
> ◯

Jughead watches the way her head falls back in laughter at one of Archie’s jokes.

Her hand moves to rest on her chest as the sound pierces the air melodiously, and from his arms, Tobi squeals with laughter in turn, making Veronica coo and aww with affection. From his left, the raven-haired woman is dressed in a way that makes Jughead think she’s more suited for a runway and not in a worn down Chocklit Shoppe.

Across from him, Archie continues his story of a crazed fan, further amusing Betty as Veronica stays distracted with the child in his arms—no doubt having heard the story multiple times before.

“Did he tell you about the time I—“

Jughead tunes Archie out. Not in a bored or disinterested way, but merely because he’s so captivated by the blonde diagonal from him. He doesn’t miss the knowing smirk Ronnie shoots his way, or the pinch she gives his thigh under the table. He’s been the only person unable to be held under her thumb—hell, he can count the number of people who’d been able to manage such a feat on one hand!

He remembers feeling invisible amongst the group as a teen. Unimportant, even. He’d convinced himself he preferred it that way—to be the fly on the wall instead of engaged. But now, as Archie drags him into the conversation, smile spread wide in enthusiasm with Betty’s eyes falling to his, full of radiance and warmth he’s missed these past few days, Jughead thinks maybe it’s okay to be present. He delves into the conversation full-heartedly, the smile on his face lazy but genuine.

When they make plans to meet up again the next day, Archie and Veronica leaving earlier than he and Betty, Jughead looks to her with soft eyes as he holds Tobi to his chest.

There’s a damp spot near his collar where the baby’s drooling, but the weight feels nice in his arms. He hadn’t known how empty his house would feel with Betty and Tobi gone—even for just a few days. It had been painful to endure, but he knew Betty needed her space. There was no sense in pushing something, so he didn’t plead for her to stay.

If Betty needed time away for her own sake, he wasn’t going to fight it.

So he didn’t.

But now, holding Tobi and staring at the blonde as she nibbles her fries with poorly attempted discreet glances toward him, he can’t imagine ever letting them go again. He wants to plead for her to come back, but he restrains himself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Olivia sooner.” He finally speaks instead, breaking the strange silence between them. “I didn’t want to say anything until I had all the facts.”

When Betty’s eyes rest on him, he’s tempted to spill every single detail of his journey tracking the little girl down. He wants to bare his soul and his actions to her so she’ll never feel like he’s hiding anything from her again.

Her hand slides across the table and grips the free one resting on the chipped linoleum. The smile she gives him is small, but it’s full of everything _Betty_. Soft, tender, sweet—she’s the epitome of genuine.

“Juggie,” she exhales, shaking her head in a way that has her soft curls sway at the movement. He’s entranced by her voice, her hand in his, her baby blues; he squeezes her hand and lets his gaze flicker unashamedly over her face. “I’m not mad.”

Blinking, he’s slightly surprised. “Wh—you’re not?”

“No.” she chuckles breathily, sounding slightly choked up. His lips curve downward as he notices the shine in her eyes. “You found her, Jug. I—After all this time, you… you never gave up.”

He holds her gaze and rubs his thumb over the backside of her hand, reveling in the softness of her skin. “I wanted to make sure she was safe.” He admits honestly. She may not have been his blood, but that child was important to Betty, and in turn, she was important to him.

Betty makes a noise in the back of her throat as her tears betray her and spill over her lashes before they’re quickly wiped away.

“I know what she meant to you—what she meant to your family.” He continues, continuing his tender ministrations.

“But I was gone.” Betty whispers quietly, sounding just the tiniest confused. “You didn’t owe me anything. Not after what I did to you—“

“Hey,” he interrupts, furrowing his brows and halting his thumb as her eyes snap to his emotionally. His head inclines forward slightly as he continues. “I don’t blame you for leaving, Betty. Not one bit.”

“You should.” She responds tremulously. “I left you. I left my mom all by herself, I—I was selfish.”

“Stop.” He counters, steadying his voice as Tobi twitches in his grip, almost disturbed out of his sleep. “Look at me.”

She doesn’t.

“Betty,” he tugs her hand, lifting it to his mouth to press a kiss against. The action effectively pulls her watery gaze up as she stares at him. “You left because you had to. You made a life for yourself. Don’t ever feel sorry for that.”

“I promised you a life together and I left.” She says quietly after a few moments of silence.

“We can still have that life, Betts.” He manages, swallowing the nerves in his chest as her eyes widen a fraction at his response. He licks his lips and looks away from her piercing gaze, onto the tuffs of hair tickling the curve of his neck. “You and Tobi and me, we… If you want that still, then I do too. I’ll wait, you know I will, but please, just… just come back home.”

There’s something heavier in his request and Betty feels her stomach somersault in the most nerve wracking but pleasant way. Her lips part slightly until she feels them lift at the corners in a surprised smile. “I want that too, Jughead.”

His shoulders ease from their tensed position, subconsciously hunched in nerves to what she’d respond. Despite their coupling, things between them hadn’t been specifically cleared, nor had they been helped with the recent events transpired; however, now, as she stares adoringly at him, Jughead’s head feels light with dizzying relief. He feels weightless and heavy all at once.

His family was coming back home.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd - sorry if there are typos, i'm heading to a baby shower and don't have time to triple read!

 

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _"We cannot change the cards we are dealt,  
>  just how we play the hand."_  
>  _-Randy Pausch_
> 
> ◯

For so long, Betty had wished she knew what Polly’s daughter was like. Was she blonde like them? Or did she carry Jason Blossom’s signature red hair? Was she obsessed with Pocahontas like Polly had been as a child? Did she dot her i’s with hearts and curl her t’s? Did she enjoy finger painting? Or was she better suited for mathematics like Jason had been?

For years after her sister’s death, Betty had let her imagination run wild with the visions of a child whose features changed with every thought.

It had been her own personal descencion for thinking of the what-ifs.

“You okay?”

Hand gripped in her own, Betty’s pulled from her thoughts as she clenches her fingers around Jughead’s. Her heart feels heavy in her chest, stirred with a fog of uncertainty. All the mental conjurations of her niece had been nothing in comparison to witnessing the real vision.

Hair like fire and eyes as bright as the sky above, Betty watches from her position in the passenger’s seat of Jughead’s truck as the little girl—a stranger whose connection to her is the blood running through her veins; Betty watches as she plays in the park across the street from them.

Jughead had found her and Betty in turn had insisted he take her to see the girl. So, an hour and a half drive later, here they sit in silence, just watching.

There’d been the stomach-churning nerves that plagued her all morning during the drive to the different town. She and Jughead had waited at the address he’d found for forty minutes as she contemplated going to the door and feigning confusion for mixing up addresses for a non-existent friend just so she could catch a glimpse of the child—but instead, they’d seen an older looking couple bustle out the front door with two little boys and the red-headed girl who wore her sister’s face.

The air had escaped her body in a rush as she saw the excitement on Olivia’s— _Amber’s_ —face. She looked so happy. So ecstatic as she bounced on her heels and engaged in chatter she couldn’t hear with who Betty assumed were her brothers.

Despite Jughead’s obvious hesitancy, he’d followed the car at her request until they were led to the park.

And here she sits.

Watching her niece live a great life without Polly or Jason. Without her or her mom. Part of her—a small, selfish part—hopes one day Olivia might become curious about her biological family and search for her—for _them_. But another part, an even _larger_ part, hopes she doesn’t. She hopes the happiness the little girl’s exuding never fades. Even looking at the parents, _the Powell’s_ , Betty’s bitterness quells slightly at their loving gazes toward one another along with the adoration in their eyes for their three children.

Betty doesn’t know these people, but she knows the look of unconditional love. It had been in Polly’s eyes when she’d held Olivia. It had been in Lincoln’s when she’d given her final push as Tobi entered the world. She sees it in these stranger’s eyes.

Looking down, Betty unclenches the fists in her sweater and takes a steadying breath before turning to Tobi, who’s now passed out in his car seat. Her plan had been to take him out and sit on a bench with Jughead, to just soak in this precious opportunity to memorize the details of the niece she’ll never get to know… but she hadn’t.

Instead, a hollowness creeps up inside her for traveling this far at all.

“Let’s go home.” She says, brushing Jughead’s question aside as he takes one long look at her before nodding and starting up the engine.

It’s not until they get on the freeway that Jughead reaches over and places his hand on her thigh, glancing briefly at her before focusing back to the road. His touch anchors her, and by reflex, her hands curl over his own, holding it tight against her thigh as she leans her head back to stare at the blurring landscape to her right.

“You did the right thing.” Jughead speaks, turning her direction again as he continues in elaboration. “Not talking to them. You did the right thing.”

“I just…” Betty’s words trail off as her throat closes and she looks back to Tobi again before feeling her chest clench.

“God, I can’t imagine losing Tobi. I can’t imagine him being with another parent and I just—Polly would be happy to know Olivia’s happy, but it’s just not _fair_. Why would she do that, Jug? How could she be so— _so_ …” the longer she speaks, the harsher her words get; years of boiling emotions teetering over the edge of her composure. She feels a rush of anger. An anger she remembers feeling in spurts during her grief. “How could she have been so _selfish_!?” she finally yells, thinking to her sister and the fatal decision that had driven the nail to the coffin that was their family’s stability.

As soon as the word leaves her mouth however, guilt overwhelms her. Betty feels vile for even being angry at all. Her sister isn’t there to defend herself because she’s _dead_. Yet, she’s still angry and she doesn’t know _why_.

Hot tears roll down her cheeks as she shakes her head. “She could’ve waited! She should’ve known I’d help get her out of that place! She _knew_ we had a plan! I can’t—Why would she do that? Leave me and my mom and her _child_! Why would she do that!?”

It’s clarity, Betty realizes. The reason why she’s never had the courage to visit her sister’s grave. She’s angry at her. _Hurt_.

“Betty,” Jughead moves his hand to her shoulder.

She barely notices that he’s put his hazards on and has pulled over off some random exit.

“Come here.”

She dives into his embrace, clenching the front of his shirt as his arms hold her close. Ugly sobs, loud and coarse, escape her throat as she replays the memory of that horrid day she’d found out.

A phone call to her mother, she’d heard through the speaker of the officer relaying the message of what had happened.

_There’s been an incident._

It felt like a dream at the time. Or a nightmare, more accurately. She’d been trying to juggle her own emotions for her father’s arrest as well as her mother’s. Life had been a haze. She’d been living minute by minute, and yet time had been incognizant.

Losing Polly… it snapped something loose in her—something that only added to the black fog festering within herself.

And she’d left. Packed a bag, skipped the funeral and moved to a faraway city where she’d clung to a man who was everything her family wasn’t. He was emotionally driven and spontaneous and loved expressively. And he’d died, too. And _god_ , was she cursed to lose _everyone_ she gave a damn about!?

“Why do they leave, Jughead?” She hiccups, unable to reign her emotions. “Dad, Polly, Lincoln—Olivia will never know her real mom! Tobi will never know his dad! She should’ve _waited_ for me! S-she sh-hould’ve—“

“Hey, hey—“ the feel of his lips pressing against her temple register briefly as she continues to cling to him. He leaves his lips against her skin, the kiss lingering like a salve to her emotional outburst. His hands stroke her hair and back until the sobs ebb and instead are replaced with the fussy whines of her son. Jughead doesn’t whisper false promises or give her answers to her questions, for which she’s grateful. He doesn’t know the answers, she knows that.

Does anyone?

“It’s okay, baby.” Betty wipes her eyes, pulling away from Jughead to lean past the front seats to soothe her son. “Mommy’s okay. Shhh.”

Tobi settles down slowly after she gives him his binky. Small huffs and cries from behind the rubber until he’s silently sucking the pacifier.

When her bottom’s back in her seat, Betty looks to Jughead, slightly ashamed for the statements she’d cried out in anger. “…I’m sorry.” She whispers, using her sleeve to wipe away the moisture on her cheeks.

Jughead doesn’t really move, only allowing his eyes to dart over her face as he assesses her emotions now. It’s a few long moments before he finally breaks the silence. “You know…” he begins lowly. “I used to think there wasn’t a heaven. That there wasn’t a God…and if there was, I didn’t want any part of a one who’d let us all live these fucked up lives without doing something about it.”

Betty’s listening intently as Jughead speaks. His voice is somewhat tremulous and his shoulders are curved—a sign of him allowing himself to be vulnerable as he confesses something no one else knows.

His brows furrow as he looks down at his hands on her elbows. They glide down toward her wrists until her palms are facing up, cupped between his own.

“When my grandparents died, my mom told me it was fine because they were in heaven and watching over us… Like that was supposed to make everything okay. Like the fact they were in some fantasy paradise was _good_. And then she said things would get better.” He exhales in wry amusement, shaking his head. “Then dad got arrested and Mom and Jellybean decided they weren’t going to move back to Riverdale after all. I was alone. For the first time in my life, I was _actually_ alone. No Archie, no family...”

Betty’s tongue darts out as she watches his lips curl into a grimace. Gray eyes move back to hold her gaze and her hands clutch his as she hears the unspoken words hanging on his tongue. _No you._

She wants to apologize. She wants to say the right things to make him feel better, but she doesn’t know how.

“I don’t know why Polly would do that.” He tells her quietly as she swallows the knot in her throat, distracted as he shifts the conversation back to her sister. “I don’t know why people die at all but…I think, if there is a heaven, Polly’s there. Maybe Olivia will never know about Polly, or maybe she will but… I think your sister will know about _her_. She’ll watch over her.”

There’s no response Betty can give to express her gratitude to what he’s just told her. It’s maybe something said so common with loss, but Betty takes the comfort with everything she is because she knows when Jughead says something, _he means it_. Instead of speaking, Betty moves forward to kiss him softly before wrapping her arms around him in another tight embrace. A hug that speaks more words than she can croak out, she prays to this God Jughead’s unsure is real or not, that what he’s just told her is true—that Polly’s watching over Olivia.

But mostly, she prays that God doesn’t take Jughead away from her, too.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

 

 

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _"Letting go doesn’t mean that_   
>  _you don’t care about someone_   
>  _anymore. It’s just realizing that_   
>  _the only person you really have_   
>  _control over is yourself."_   
>  _-Deborah Reber_
> 
> ◯

It’s in the dead of night when Jughead gets a call from his dad.

Blinking blearily, he untangles himself from Betty as he taps his screen to accept the call. There’s confusion at first, as he doesn’t recognize the number. “H’lo?”

_“Jughead.”_

Pausing the movement of rubbing the grit in his eye, Jughead feels his body tense and then ease at recognizing his father’s voice. “Dad—“

 _“I’m being released.”_ FP cuts him off, sounding slightly apologetic. _“Mind giving your old man a ride?”_

Holding in a sigh of frustration, Jughead lets his head fall back as his gaze trails to the dark ceiling. He’s not fully awake to make sense of the scrambled emotions in him, but it doesn’t matter. Walking over to Tobi’s crib, he makes sure the baby’s sleeping soundly before moving to throw on some clothing.

“I’ll be right there.” He answers before hanging up.

Reaching for his beanie, Jughead sits himself at Betty’s side and watches the rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps soundly. Reluctantly, his hand rubs at her shoulder, stirring her awake. “Betty,”

“..mmm…”

“Betts.”

Betty blinks awake slowly, body tensing in what he now knows as a mother’s alertness before he shushes her into ease. “What’s wrong? Wha—“

“My dad called.” He cuts her off, watching intently at her reaction to this news. With slight reluctance, he continues when all she gives him is patient silence for him to explain. “He’s being released right now.”

Betty doesn’t respond right away but turns to look at the clock, noticing the early hour. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, no. You stay here.” He assures, not at all eager for her to have to go to the jail with him. “Go back to sleep.”

“Juggie, are you sure?”

“Yeah.” His hand pushes her hair back as his gaze softens to the genuine concern in her eyes. Moving forward, he kisses her softly, only to feel her reach out for his hand to squeeze. Even without words, he appreciates just how much her silent support comforts him. “I’ll be back, okay?”

Betty nods slowly, her eyes still flickering across his face. “Okay… be safe.”

It’s only when he’s out on the road that Jughead feels the frustration in him become swept up in the entanglement of anxiety and hope. He wants so badly to believe this is the last time he has to do this. He wants to believe that this time his father’s actually learned something—maybe made a decision to finally change for the better. But Jughead’s not stupid. He knows the cycle. He’s been through it all before.

Walking to up to the facility, hands buried deep in his pockets, he only pulls one out to press the buzzer just beside the glass doors.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to pick up Forsythe Jones. He’s supposed to be being released right now.”

“One moment please.”

Jughead nods, only realizing a moment later that whoever’s at the other end can’t see him. Sighing for what feels like the thousandth time, he swivels on his heel to scan the semi-empty parking lot behind him. There are a few county cars but otherwise, he’s alone. His thoughts drift to Betty and he wishes he could be back in bed beside her rather than here. He wants to close his eyes and find that when he opens them, it’s just another day.

The beeps from the door further down the building bring him back to attention and soon, his father emerges with an officer in tow.

He’s wearing that dingy old flannel he remembers seeing on him the night of his arrest and he’s already digging in his crumpled cigarette box for a smoke. Scruffier than the last he’d seen him, Jughead notices his hair looks a little more tousled as well.

“Dad.”

FP stops a few feet in front of him, inclining his head forward slightly. “Son.”

There’s a moment of silence before FP’s eyes trail over him. “You look good.”

Jughead refrains from rolling his eyes as he reaches into his father’s chest pocket to steal a smoke. He pulls his own lighter out to light his up before tossing it to FP and walking toward his truck. “Let’s go.”

The sound of the lighter clicking reaches his ears as he turns away. There’s little conversation until they reach his truck, both filing in silently until the low static-y tunes of the radio fills the air.

“Where to?” Jughead asks, glancing at FP as he turns the key and takes a deep inhale of his smoke before flicking it outside.

“Take me to the park.”

Jughead frowns, confused. “You realize your trailer has a new family living in it, don’t you?”

FP gives him a dry look, knowing the unfortunate loss of his home because of his bad choices. “I’ll find a place with one of the guys.”

A flare of irritation sparks in Jughead as he levels his gaze with his father’s. There’s a tension brewing between them both now as the implication of FP falling to his old habits hangs in the air. Shaking his head, Jughead pulls out of the parking spot and drives off. “No. You’re staying with me.”

“Jug—“

“You’re really going to go back to those guys?” he huffs, glaring harshly ahead at the dark streets ahead of them, illuminated by dim lights. “God, dad—“

“What do you want from me, huh?” FP snaps back defensively, looking less shamefaced now and equally irritated. “I’m never going to be the perfect dad, Jughead!”

“Who the fuck is asking you to?” Jughead counters, thinking to his sister and the way she’d given up on FP. He’s always believed otherwise—he’s believed he could come back from the bad choices. “You could at least try to act like you give a damn about our family, though.”

“That’s your mother talking.” FP scoffs, shaking his head and flicking his cigarette out the window. There’s a furrow of his brow that Jughead catches, seeing the slight bit of pain that pulls the tiniest bit of sympathy for him.

“Dad,” he begins, voice lowered back to an almost pleading tone. “I know you think we all gave up on you, but there’s still time to fix things.”

He watches the twitch of his father’s jaw as the older man looks down to the fist on his lap. “I missed my chance, son.”

“You _haven’t_.”

“Your mom met someone else.” FP argues heatedly, shocking Jughead with news he hadn’t been informed of. “Your sister hates me—“

“Jesus, enough with the melodrama, dad! Jellybean doesn’t hate you—she’s hurt! With every right to be!” Jughead argues back, pushing aside the information on his mother. “Man up! She needs you. And… so do I, okay?”

It’s silent for a moment as Jughead tries to gauge the look in his father’s eye at the outpour of his feelings. He tries to decipher what’s going on inside his head, but his father is too much like him, and there’s no hint of what he might be thinking. Jughead swallows and frowns, feeling his chest tighten uncomfortably at his father’s continued silence.

“Look,” he sighs finally. “you have two options right now; you can come home with me, stay a while and figure out the next step to make things better not only for Jellybean, but for yourself… _Or_ , I can take you to the park.”

FP opens his mouth to respond, but Jughead’s not finished. Raising his hand slightly, he lingers at a stop sign and keeps his gaze steady. “If you choose the Serpents, I’m done. I… I can’t keep going through this.”

Jughead’s thoughts drift briefly to Betty and Tobi, and he wonders the impact having a criminal father constantly bringing him down with him will have on their dynamic. He doesn’t want them on the Serpent’s radar—not in the slightest. He doesn’t want to keep promising his sister things will get better when he’s on the fence of believing it’s true himself. He doesn’t want to feel the heavy weight of disappointment and hurt each encounter he had with his father.

He realizes this is the point at which he needs to draw a line.  

“I have a family now, too.” Jughead tells him, watching the man’s brows raise slightly. “Betty and her son are living with me. I love them and… I want you to know them too, but not if you go back to the Serpents. I want you in my life, but not like that. Not anymore.”

His father gives him a strange look before he speaks somewhat hoarsely. “Betty? Cooper?”

Jughead refuses to blush at a time like this and merely nods. “Yeah.”

“The kid yours?” FP questions, looking curious and somewhat apprehensive to the thought of discovering himself to be a grandfather so suddenly.

“No.” Jughead answers, watching FP’s shoulders lose tension slightly. “But if one day he wants me to be his dad, I will. Because I love him, and I know every kid deserves to have parents who are there for them.” Jughead tilts his head slightly to catch his father’s gaze. “ _Both_ of their parents.”

FP looks out the window and furrows his brows at the answer. His face has tightened into a way that shows the internal struggle taking place in his thoughts.  

“So you tell me.” Jughead says after another terse moment, taking his foot off the brake and giving his father a hard look. “Where do you want to go?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

 

 

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _"Hope is like the sun, which,  
>  as we journey toward it, casts  
>  the shadow of our burdens  
>  behind us."_  
>  _-Samuel Smiles_
> 
> ◯

He wakes up to the smell of pancakes.

Rubbing the grit from his eyes, Jughead soon realizes Betty’s bed is empty, and he bolts up into a sitting position, standing up to see Tobi’s crib is empty as well. Sucking in a deep breath, he tugs his beanie on and moves into the hallway.

It’s then he hears the quiet chatter. Walking further down the hallway, he stops at the end of the hall to witness Betty at the stove in their kitchen with his father beside her, Hotdog at their feet as he pleads with his eyes for food.

Tobi in his high chair sees him first, and Jughead’s pulled from his surprise as the baby squeals and thrusts his arms up, hoping to be carried by him.

Jughead crosses the living room and picks up Tobi as he continues to stare at the scene before him, now with Betty and FP both regarding him with separate expressions.

“Hey, dad.” He furrows his brow, letting his eyes flicker between him and Betty. He’d spent the better part of the morning tossing and turning in hurt and anger when his father had told him to drop him off at the park, but now… now he’s here.

In his kitchen.

Making pancakes with Betty.

He can’t help the confusion he feels, nor does he think he’s hiding the puzzlement on his face.

“Son.” FP gives a cautious nod before the blonde places her hand on his arm and smiles.

“Your dad came by this morning.” She explains with a look that tells Jughead she’s aware of the tension between the two of them. Handing FP the spatula, he takes over as she steps away from the stove, walking toward Jughead to place a chaste kiss on his lips before whispering in his ear. “I hope you don’t mind I invited him in. Are you okay?”

Jughead blinks and licks his lips, feeling his chest lighten with just the smallest spark of hope. “Yeah. Yeah, I uh… Dad, what—“

“I didn’t like how we left things off this morning.” FP interrupts, looking over his shoulder as his statement is followed by a shrug.

“He was sitting on the porch when I came back from my run.” Betty explains, rubbing her hand over Tobi’s curls as he continues to gurgle and tug at the hem of Jughead’s beanie. Lifting her baby blues up at him, Betty searches his eyes as she finishes. “I kind of interrogated him until he told me about the ultimatum you gave... And before you say anything, just let him stay to explain himself before you get upset okay?”

She looks nervous as she says this, wringing her hands and keeping her voice low, though they both know FP can still hear them. But Jughead isn’t the least bit upset at the fact. Instead, he only feels a surge of love for her in this moment for caring enough to see past the surface flaws of his dad and accepting him for both their sakes.

“So you are?” Jughead breathes out, staring at FP with poorly constrained hope. “Staying?”

When FP nods, Jughead feels almost weightless and there’s a short pause as he turns his body to answer. “If that’s okay with you both.”

“Of course!” Betty answers before Jughead has a chance to, rubbing her hand over his arm before stepping toward the older man. “I mean, it’s… it’s really up to Jughead…” she says, flicking her eyes toward him, looking sheepish in realizing she's for spoken for him. “This is your house.”

“It’s _our_ house.” Jughead snaps his gaze back to her, fascinated when he sees a delicate blush spread across her cheeks for his adamancy. But it is. This place has never felt more like home until she and Tobi came along—and now, now his dad is wanting to change and be a part of it? Looking pointedly at his father, he continues. “All of ours now.”

Betty’s gaze catches his once more and he’s winded by the affection and support found in them. Turning back to FP, she reaches for the spatula in his hand and smiles up at him.

“Here,” her other hand moves to squeeze the crook of his elbow. “I’ll take over. You two go talk. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“Betts, let me help.”

“No, no.” she waves them off, the genuine and easy smile still on her face as the tension from moments earlier dissipates. “Help your dad get situated. His things are in the living room.”

When FP gives a low chuckle, sounding slightly uncomfortable with Betty’s radiant and kind demeanor, Jughead can’t help but remember with painstaking clarity how he’d been the same way once upon a time. He’s so much like his father in that regard, initially scared to let himself be vulnerable or accept the graciousness that exudes so naturally from the rare Betty Cooper. He’d been so afraid of being tended to, and it’s evident now that his own father is adjusting to her gracious disposition just as he once had to.

It’s going to be an adjustment, but Jughead doesn’t feel anything other than raw elation that there’s the need for one at all. His father is choosing  _him_ over the Serpents. In the first time in years, Jughead feels that the light at that end of the tunnel is looking just the smallest bit brighter.

Mindful of Tobi still in his arm, Jughead feels no shame in pulling his dad close when FP approaches him. He buries his nose in the crook of his neck and tries to swallow the knot in his throat. He wants to say thank you, but he’s sure if he tries to talk, he’ll cry.

Instead, Jughead bunches the fabric of FP’s vest and holds him for another moment longer, hoping the words unsaid will be spoken through the gesture before he pulls away. When he sees the extra bit of sheen in his father’s eyes, he doesn’t feel as abashed for his own emotional reaction.

“Come on.” FP claps his shoulder, clearing his throat and moving his hand down to gently jut Tobi’s chin. “Why don’t you two give me the grand tour, huh?”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd - please forgive errors
> 
> I literally just posted this on a different fic bc I'm so damn tired lol, so I apologize for typos. I'll fix them tomorrow.

 

>   
>  ▱◯♕
> 
> _“There is no charm equal  
>  to tenderness of heart. _  
>  _—Jane Austen_
> 
> ◯

 “So…”

“Mom, don’t even start.”

In the middle of the baking section at the supermarket, Betty stands with her mother and a hyper Tobi in the front of her cart. His eyes sweep over the brightly colored display of cake icings they’re stood in front of as she assesses what to buy.

Alice lifts her hand with wide eyes at her daughter, affronted. “What?”

Betty bends down to grab a cream cheese frosting at the bottom rack before raising a brow at her over her shoulder. “You’ve been trying to scrape for details on FP’s new job all morning. Just drop it.”

“I have every right to be curious as to what type of work a criminal has when my daughter and grandson are sharing a home with him.” Alice replies with an upturned nose.

“FP’s paid his dues and has done his time. Stop badgering him. He’s only been out for a couple months... he’s still adjusting.” Betty defends before putting the icing in the cart with the rest of her items before placing a hand on her hip. “And if you so much as pull a stunt like interrogating or belittling him at Tobi’s party, I _will_ kick you out.”

Alice can do nothing at that but fold her arms and huff slightly. “Alright, you win, Elizabeth. I won’t say a word to that scruffy felon during the party.”

“Or anytime else.” Betty adds in emphasis, knowing her mother’s love for loopholes and carefully crafted words.

Alice’s shoulders deflate slightly before she sighs, waving her arm in conceding. “Fine.”

There’s so much already on her mind with preparing her little boy’s first birthday tomorrow, that Betty has no patience for any inklings of family drama. In the time since FP’s release, he’d managed to snag a job for installing windows. And though it’s not a glamorous one, it’s something she’s heard him share to Jughead will be the proof in how serious he is in changing for the better.

Though Jughead’s insisted FP keep his earnings, Betty understands now where he gets his stubbornness from when the older man vehemently refuses, making sure to slip money each week into Jughead’s wallet.

“Thank you.” Betty sighs to her mom’s relenting, pushing the cart so she can gather the other items needed for her little party.

“There is one thing, however—“

“ _Mom_.”

“…Fine.”

…. …. …..

When Betty arrives home after dropping her mother back off, she’s surprised to see FP home so early. He jumps up from his position on the couch to help her with the bags in her left hand as her right is busy steadying the babbling toddler against her.

“Thanks.” She smiles, setting Tobi onto the ground where Hotdog’s laying. The child shudders with laughter when the dog inclines his head to give him a lick over his face. Her head turns toward the hallway as she deposits her purse onto the table. “Is Jughead here?”

FP shakes his head, pulling the items out of the bags. “Oh uh, no. No. He had some errands to do.”

Being a journalist, Betty’s far too attuned with reading a person’s facial expressions and tones. FP looks calm and collected as per usual, but there’d been a slight hitch in his words before it was glossed with faux pacificity. There’s also a knowing glint in his eye that she catches before he turns away to put stuff inside the cupboards and fridge.

“Okay…” she raises a brow before shrugging it off.

A man like FP Jones is bound to have his secrets, and honestly, she’s not sure she wants to delve into them to find out what they are.

“Look,” he nods with a smile, looking over her shoulder and drawing her attention to her son—the toddler pulling himself up by gripping the cushions of the couch beside him. When Tobi looks toward her with his tiny toothed smile and bright eyes, Betty can’t help but beam back at him, completely smitten.

But when he takes a tentative step toward her without any help from the sofa before falling on his bum, Betty gasps with delight, dropping the things in her hands onto the table before she rushes to him.

“Oh my gosh, Tobi! FP, did you see that!?” she laughs, swiveling her head to stare at FP as he leans against the wall, observing them with a grin. Betty holds Tobi by the armpits and bounces him gently. “He took his first step! I can’t believe it! I need to call—“

Her chest tightens as the image of her sister fades from her mind.

She doesn’t know why she’d been suddenly blindsided with forgetting her sister was no longer there to call and gush over this milestone in her son’s life. Lincoln comes to mind next and she licks her lips as the joy she’d been feeling only moments earlier is shadowed by the grief and guilt that he’s not there to share it.

“Betty?” FP’s voice carries, bringing her out from her temporary distraction.

When she looks up, licking her lips to soothe the sandpaper feeling on her tongue, he’s at her side, staring concernedly at her. “You okay?” his eyes flicker from her to Tobi, before they settle back on her.

Determined to let this be a moment she’ll remember with happiness and not grief, Betty ignores the hollow ache in her chest and nods, smiling up at the older man. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I was just… I just thought of…”

FP’s face melds into one of understanding and he crouches at her side for only a few awkward moments before reaching forward to play with Tobi’s chubby little hand. He tilts his head and glances at her. “Let’s see if he can do it again.”

She’s touched by his attempt at comforting her, but there’s no need as the door behind them opens, letting Jughead in to witness them still huddled around child. He raises a brow as his lips curve upward in intrigue.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, reaching a hand out to scratch Hotdog’s ear as his back pushes to close the door behind him.

“Tobi took his first step.” Betty gushes at him, feeling that earlier joy and excitement creep back up inside her.

At this, Jughead’s eyes widen as his smile grows. Moving forward, he takes FP’s position—the older man moving back to the kitchen to put things away. “What?” Jughead breathes out a laugh, taking over in holding the little boy upright as Betty scoots back, watching them with excited amusement. “Damn, I missed it!”

“Your dad and I were going to see if he could do it again.” Betty gestures to FP before her eyes focus back on Jughead, watching as he blows raspberries onto Tobi’s neck and making him squeal with laughter. “Where’d you head off to?”

“Huh?” Jughead pulls away from his playing with Tobi, turning his head to stare at her before she notices with bemusement as his cheeks color only slightly. One hand lifts from Tobi’s waist as it moves to scratch behind his neck. “Oh, uh. Just went to… the library. I had some stuff I needed to take care of.”

She’s about to speak when Tobi decides to take another step forward, only to fall after two steps into his lap.

“Did you see that?!” Jughead laughs, sharing the same enthusiasm she’d had before they’re cooing and fawning over the little boy. “That was awesome, Tobes!”

“He’s getting so big!” Betty whines playfully, rubbing her hand against his back before Jughead lifts him into his arms and stands.

“How old was I when I started walking, dad?” Jughead asks FP, stepping toward the kitchen where the older man’s just finishing putting things away. Betty trails behind him and watches as FP chuckles, giving his son a side-glance before plopping down onto the nearby chair.

“Let’s see…” he rubs a hand over his jaw thoughtfully. “You were about ten months, I think. Your sister beat you at nine.”

Jughead chuckles at that before looking at Tobi. “Now we just need to get you talking. Can you say Jughead?”

“Yeah,” FP laughs, giving a nod of thanks to Betty when she hands him a bottle of pop. “We’ll see how excited you two stay once he starts chattering.”

“What do you mean?” Betty laughs, leaning against the counter.

“What I mean is, Jughead here drove his mom up the wall with all the questions he’d ask. It took him a little longer to talk than most the kids his age, but once he started, oh boy…” The older man laughs, eyes lost in reminiscent thought. “His favorite word? Why. _Why this, why that_. It was worse when he taught himself how to read.”

“You taught yourself how to read?” Betty feels her grin spread as she turns to catch Jughead rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “That’s impressive, Juggie.”

“Lots of kids do it.” He shrugs.

“Not at the age of six.”

“You must be so proud of where his potential’s taken him then.” Betty pushes herself off the counter to rub Jughead’s arms before placing a kiss against his beanie covered head. She knows by his fidgeting that he’s self-conscious of their attention, but it doesn’t stop FP’s eyes from softening in what she can only describe as his aforementioned pride.

“I am.”

“Alright,” Jughead drops his gaze, fighting the grin that’s itching to tak over his face. “Enough of this Nicholas Sparks sap, don’t we have a birthday party to prep for tomorrow?”

“I just need to make a call and I’ll be back to help.” The older man promises, standing up and pulling his cell from his pocket.

“It’s okay, Mr. Jones.” Betty waves him off, turning to gather her baking goods and cook book. “I’ve got it covered. You go relax.”

Betty hears Jughead follow his dad out the kitchen, only to turn the television on for Tobi while simultaneously slipping him into his bouncer before the baby becomes absorbed with the talking British pigs on the screen. When he walks back to stand by her side, Betty turns her head and places her hand on his chest, reaching up to kiss him gently.

When he sighs against her lips, moving his hands to rest at her waist, Betty hums in pleasure at the way his fingertips feel pushing into her skin before she pulls away to stare at him. “You sure you’re going to be okay being at the party tomorrow? I know birthdays aren’t exactly your thing…”

“ _My_ birthday. _My_ birthday isn’t my thing.” Jughead corrects, giving her a look. “You can mark off everyone else’s as being safe to celebrate.”

“Thanks for the permission.” She retorts dryly, a playful lilt in her tone.

“You know what I mean.” He rolls his eyes before cupping her face and letting his thumbs drag over her cheeks in a soothing movement. “Also, I am offended you’d even think I’d miss Tobes first birthday! This is a monumental point in his life. A day he’ll cherish and remember forever.”

“Shut up.” Betty pushes his shoulder, chuckling lightly as he teases her for being slightly carried away at her party planning. He’d been making remarks all week about her decision to have the celebration at Pop’s Diner, inviting not only him, FP and Alice—but also some of her friends from _The Register_ , her cousin from Michigan and their family, and even Veronica, who apparently would be flying in for the day.

“He’ll cherish and appreciate it through all the pictures I’ll be taking.”

“You’ll probably have to clear your phone out first.” Jughead teases again, grabbing a banana off the counter to eat. “What have you got now? Like two thousand photos?”

“I do not.” Betty huffs, rolling her eyes at his remark.

“And all of Tobi.” He says before pausing, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Well, you do take some of Hotdog as well.”

“Okay. So we’ll use _your_ phone for the picture taking instead.” She places a hand on her hip, challenging him with a raise of her brows. “You can be my official photographer.”

“As long as you pay me by the hour.”

Betty yanks at the lapels of his jacket roughly, shutting his smart mouth up with a languid and passionate kiss.

“Or that.” He breathes out, staring heatedly at her when she pulls away to catch her breath. “Definitely prefer that.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

>   
>  ▱◯♕
> 
> _“Blood make you related.  
>  Loyalty makes you family.” _
> 
> ◯

When Betty arrives to Pop’s to begin setting up before the party, she’s stunned to find the place already decorated. Silver and orange streamers with dinosaur napkins, she turns to see Pop Tate walk out from the kitchen with a friendly smile in greeting at spotting her.

His eyes fall to Tobi in her grip and he wanders over, stuffing a rag into apron. “Here’s the birthday boy!”

“Is this for Tobi?” Betty questions, staring at the man who’s watched her age throughout the years look up from her own son to smile kindly at her.

“I reckoned you may have wanted a head start.” Pop confesses, eliciting a wave of gratitude from her to the dear old man at his thoughtful gesture.

“Oh, Pop,” she leans over to give him a short embrace before pulling back and walking over to the tables now grouped together for her party to sit in. “Thank you.”

She and Pop continue conversation as she sets Tobi in his high chair and waits for everyone else to arrive. Luckily, it doesn’t take long. Jughead and her mother show up together first, him holding the cake Alice had insisted on decorating herself.

A few customers skitter into the diner, but Betty’s grateful it’s not packed.

“Look at my big boy!” Alice coos excitedly as she plucks him from his highchair and into her lap for a hug he reciprocates with squealing happiness. Seeing his grandmother makes Tobi light up brighter than a Christmas tree, and Betty can't help but feel a rush of warmth at that. Her mother’s made mistakes, but there’s no denying she loves her grandson unconditionally.

And Betty, well, she can’t believe she’s actually _here_ in Riverdale. She’s here, and yet, it doesn’t feel like the cage she’d always envisioned it when younger.

The sense of community experienced here now as an adult is a startling contrast to how she felt growing up. There's still shadows, certainly; old ghosts of the skeletons lingering inside most resident’s closets, but Betty realizes now that you don't get by in life without collecting a few of your own dry bones.

When FP comes a little while later, Betty and Jughead watch with baited breath as he deposits a tiny present onto the table beside Alice and Tobi. Her mother is trying her hardest to hold her tongue, seen by the way she quickly glances toward Betty as some sort of confirmation she'll be kicked out if a scene arises.

"Hello, Alice."

"FP." Her mother raises a brow, lips thinned and back straight as she fights the urge to give some type of passive aggressive remark over his less than favorable lifestyle choices.

"Thank you for coming, FP." Betty smiles, breaking the weird silence and standing up to move the present to a table further down the row. "I know there are far more exciting things to do with your Saturday than watch this little monster stuff his face with cake."

She gives Tobi an affection squeeze to his chin and sits back down next to Jughead as FP settles adjacent to them, beside Alice.  

"Nonsense." He leans back against his chair, hesitating slightly when the baby reaches out to be carried by him next. FP moves forward and takes the one year old from an sour faced Alice before hoisting him up on the table. “Free burgers and dessert? Sounds like my type of party.”

Jughead chuckles beside her as Alice rolls her eyes, Betty grinning at the scene of FP playing with her son. She leans forward onto the table and props her chin up on her hand. “I should’ve known food would be the selling point.” She jokes lightly, gaining amused grins from both Jones men. “Like father, like son.”

It’s not much later until Veronica and some of her co-workers show up, followed shortly thereafter by her own cousin Beatrice and her three children.

“Betty, how are you!?”

Tall, slim, and with the trademark ‘Smith’ genes of bright blonde hair, Beatrice is a hotshot editor for a fashion magazine down in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and has only stopped to say hi on her way back from a family trip to Disneyworld. While Betty loves her cousin dearly, she had been nowhere near as close to her as Polly had, given their same age.

“I’m good, Bea.” Betty pulls her in for a hug before greeting the three boys now circling around FP and Alice, trying to get a good look at their hyper baby cousin. “You look great.”

Beatrice waves her off, but takes the compliment with poor humility. “Oh, thank you. I gave up carbs for some time but it didn’t last. We had an office party a while back and I woke up in the conference room with a French loaf in my face.”

Betty hopes that’s not a euphemism. She chuckles awkwardly.

“Oh ,my god! You’re Veronica Lodge!”

From her seat by Jughead, Veronica perks up at being recognized and flips her hair with a kind but proud smile on her face. “Why, yes. I am.”

“Do you mind if I interview you?” Beatrice is already pulling a notebook from her purse and rushing to the table, not even waiting to be introduced to Jughead, her co-workers or FP. Betty doesn’t mind however, and it’s obvious nobody else does either.

The day passes by in what Betty can only describe as bliss. There’s amicable conversation flowing throughout the group, delicious food provided by Pop, and merry celebration during Tobi’s time to blow out his candles. Before she knows it, the sun has set and people begin to take their leave.

“I’m sad to go so soon.” Veronica says as Jughead and Betty walk her out. “But I’m going to convince Archiekins to take some time off so we can come here for the holidays.”

Jughead opens the passenger door to his truck and gains an appraising look from their raven-haired friend. “Why, Juggiekins, when did you become so chivalrous?”

He only gives her an exasperated look at the teasing and nickname before she giggles. Patting his cheek, he pulls away from her touch with an affectionate roll of his eyes before Veronica turns back to Betty and hugs her close. “I’ll tell Archie you send your love,” she looks down to Tobi and gives him a noisy kiss on the cheek. “And this little guy too, of course.”

“Text me when you get to Bangkok, okay?” Betty says as Veronica climbs into the passenger’s seat. She adjusts Tobi in her arms and rocks her body back and forth to keep him from fussing. “Just so I know you’re okay.”

“I will. Oh, and one more thing— _hey_!”

When Jughead closes the door, cutting Veronica off and giving a shrug at Betty’s amused but disapproving smirk, he walks toward her and dips his head to place a slow and languid kiss upon her lips. “I’ll meet you back at the house, okay?”

Betty nods and brings her free hand up to nestle her fingers at the nape of his neck, pulling him back down for a final, more innocent kiss. “Try not to talk Ronnie’s ear off during the drive, hm?”

Jughead stares dryly at her. “I’ll try and restrain myself.”

With a giggle, she lifts Tobi higher on her hip and pulls the fist he’s nibbling on out of his mouth. “Tobi, say bye-bye to Juggie.”

Blank look softening into one of tenderness, Jughead plants a kiss on Tobi’s curly head before pulling back. “Bye, bud.”

As Jughead steps away, Tobi begins thrusting his body in protest to his leaving. And when he opens his mouth, Betty and Jughead both freeze at the word that spills from his lips.

“Da! Da-ada.”

Betty feels her mouth drop open and snaps her gaze up to see Jughead’s eyes widen at the boy’s gurgled but distinguishable words. “Did he…?”

“Dadda, da!” Tobi begins to whine, reaching his hand out toward Jughead’s direction.

Betty feels her mouth stretch into a smile as the rush of excitement at her baby’s first word replaces the shock and bitterness that it’s not ‘ _mama’_. “Oh, my god!”

“He…he must listen when I’m talking with my dad.” Jughead swallows the knot in his throat.

Betty can already see the wheels turning in his head, trying to come up with a viable reason as to why her son has decided to call him _that_. But when she opens her mouth to speak, the blare of a horn startles them both and forces them to take a step apart before Veronica’s window rolls down.

“Sorry to interrupt this whole _‘we’ll always have Paris’_ goodbye, but my flight leaves in an hour, and if I’m not at the airport in—“

“Yeah, yeah.” Jughead cuts her off with a grumble before taking a step forward and slowly raising his hand to brush Tobi’s cheek. The look he gives her is one of uncertainty.

Betty realizes then that he’s not upset, but he’s wondering if _she_ is.

“We’ll talk when you come back home.” Betty reaches out, clasping his hand and giving him a soft and reassuring smile to ease his worries.

His shoulders lose their tension and the lines on his face settle back into smooth skin. The corners of his mouth curve upward and there’s a glint in his eye that set her heart aflame with love and warmth.

He nods.

“—and _why_ in god’s name do you still own a vehicle that requires actual exertion to roll a window down!? Goodness, Jughead, this isn’t the stone ag—“

Betty tunes Veronica’s voice out as she watches her boyfriend move into the front seat before driving off. She’s saved a trip of walking inside when her mother and cousin come walking out, the boys all tagging behind an uncomfortable FP.

“Bea and the boys are going to come stay at the house tonight. Are you sure you don’t want to come over?”

“Thanks, mom,” Betty shakes her head, feeling hit with fatigue at such an eventful day. “but I’m okay.”

“Alright then. Say goodbye to your cousin.”

Refraining from rolling her eyes at being spoken to like a child, Betty tosses her keys to FP and tells him to wait for her in the car as she says goodbye to her family.

“I’m glad things are going well for you, Betty.” Beatrice tells her as they watch Alice help the children get situated in the vehicle. “After everything the family’s been through… after all _you’ve_ been through…”

Betty licks her lips and looks down, nodding slowly. “Yeah. It’s been hard some days, I won’t lie, but… I’m happy here.”

“You deserve it.” Bea smiles at her, soft eyed and sincere. Opening her arms, she pulls her into an embrace before waving goodbye and disappearing into the car. When Betty gives a final wave to her family, she turns and makes the trek to her own little buggie, smiling when she hears the domesticity of her family bickering unimportantly behind her.

FP waits as she clips Tobi in his car seat before shuffling in. A heavy sigh escapes her, catching his attention.

“Thank you for coming, FP.” She tells him again, hoping he’ll know just how appreciative she is that his changed presence has been such a positive influence to their everyday.

“Betty,” he says, keeping his eyes on her as she drives them away from the diner and back to their home. “I should be thanking you.”

“What?” she blinks, glancing at him in befuddlement.

“My son is a lot of things, but he’s not open.” FP explains quietly, turning back to look ahead. “Not with his feelings at least.”

“…oh.”

“Does Jughead make you happy?” he questions suddenly, startling Betty with the seriousness of his tone. “Now, I know I’m not the perfect father, there’s no getting around that—“

“No one is.”

“—but I love my son, and I want him to be happy.” FP continues, ignoring her small voice of attempted reassurance. “ _You_ make him happy.”

Betty feels her face flush as her fingers grip the wheel, her heart picking up speed and her stomach fluttering with the implication FP’s thrown at her.

“I just want to be sure he makes you happy, because if one day you decide to leave—“

“I’m not.” Betty interrupts him, her gaze serious as her tone emphasize her insistence. “I _won’t_. My home is here, with my family.”

There’s a short moment of silence as FP looks at her, and though Betty knows he’s not exactly the most qualified of parents to be giving protective speeches, she doesn’t diminish its importance. Betty knows behind all the mistakes and insecurities, FP _does_ love his son, and his passion to see him happy is genuine.

Betty can’t be offended by that.

“I’m not going anywhere, FP.” She tells him in a softer voice, feeling the words seal an unseen promise as they fall from her lips. “My family is _here_.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd 
> 
> one more chapter left!

>   
>  ▱◯♕
> 
> _"I knew I did from that first_   
>  _moment we met. It was…not_   
>  _love at first sight exactly, but_   
>  _familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s_   
>  _you. It’s going to be you._   
>  _Game over."_   
>  _—Mhairi McFarlane_
> 
> ◯
> 
>  

His father’s asleep on the couch when Jughead arrives home after dropping Veronica off at the airport. He shuts the door quietly and walks over to his dad’s side, grinning slightly at the two dinosaur stickers adorning his cheeks by what he assumes is Tobi’s doing.

He shuts the television off and debates whether to leave his dad as is, or wake him. Grabbing the throw blanket over the couch, Jughead drapes it over his dad’s form and quietly walks down the hall to the room he now shares with Betty.

She’s already in bed, Tobi curled up into her, and Jughead can’t help the feeling of completion he experiences at the sight of them.

The life he’d been living before Betty Cooper dropped back into it was nothing more than routine. He isn’t exactly a creature of socializing, nor is he the type of person to go out clubbing or bar hopping. He was content in staying home, eating takeout and watching whatever film caught his fancy that night. And then he’d sleep, wake up early, go to work, write, and repeat the process. Day in, and day out.

Now, he has something to come home to everyday—someone _. Someones._

And not just anyone, no. Betty, he knew, hated the word perfect, but he can’t see her as anything but. Even with her imperfections and flaws, she’s otherworldly. Her spirit and brilliant mind could bring even the foulest of creatures to their knees, and that’s exactly where he is now.

On his knees, bound to her by the ties he’d never let go of in their separation.

It had been brutal losing her the first time as young teenagers in love. But now? He can’t fathom experiencing the loss a second time. Though he’s no stranger to people leaving him, his skin thick and his mind resilient—Jughead feels the anxious ache in his bones just thinking of life without Betty.

And Tobi? The child who babbles and smiles and giggles at him like his hands haven’t been tainted with the blood and grime of mistakes made in his past—he’s somehow weaved his little one-year-old self into Jughead’s heart and taken a permanent residence there.

Jughead doesn’t care that he’s not his child by blood. He’s part of Betty, and he loves him.

He changes quickly into some sweats and slides himself under the covers beside the blonde, wrapping his arm around her as he spoons her. When she shifts slightly, stirred from her light slumber, he kisses the side of her temple and whispers an apology at waking her.

“It’s okay.” She hums, scooting closer against him while being careful not to move Tobi.

“So…” he drags out, uncomfortable in bringing up the topic that’s been on his mind the entire time since leaving Pop’s.

“Jughead,” Betty turns her head to look at him, stroking the fingers resting over her ribs. “You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be with us here.”

“Do you not want me to be?” his brows furrow, not needing to elaborate on what she’s referring to.

Betty licks her lips. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. Though it pains me to know Tobi will never know Lincoln… I can’t think of anyone better to give a father’s love onto him than you.”

Jughead feels his throat tighten at her whispered words. His fingers still her moving hands and he intertwines them between his own.

“Betty,” he says, blowing a blonde curl from her temple with his breath. “Why didn’t you ever take your husband’s last name?”

Jones.

Tobi Jones.

Jughead Jones.

Lincoln Jones.

And yet, Betty had kept Cooper.

Betty tenses slightly under his embrace and Jughead’s worried for a moment that he’s offended her at the question. However, her body loosens shortly after with a heavy exhale as she answers quietly.

“Juggie…” Betty sighs, “When I broke up with you, it was in a time I was so lost.”

His heart clenches in pain at remembering the time she's referring to. She’d been a shell of her former self, lost in a black abyss of sadness and grief. And he'd hated every bit of it because he knew there had been nothing he could do about it.  

“My dad and Polly, God, just everything—“ her breath hitches as her hands move to brush the curls over Tobi’s head, “Meeting Lincoln, a part of me always felt guilty. Like, I was betraying you in some way, even though we’d been apart for so long. I still loved you, and yet, I somehow loved this man who _wasn’t_ you. He was different and despite his faults, he did love me...”

Jughead thinks he should feel upset in imagining Betty with someone else, but all he can feel is relief she hadn’t been alone completely through her years of grief.

“But when we were married, I just…” she pauses, her hand stilling over Tobi as she takes in a wavering breath. “…I didn’t want Jones. Not if it wasn’t…”

Jughead tenses up, his own breathing strained in a sharp inhale.

Betty rolls over, facing him completely, and her eyes hold onto his own with her soul on display. “…not if it wasn’t you.”

Jughead’s heart does a funny leap in his chest as his fingers bury themselves in the wrinkled fabric of his flannel on her. There’s a trickle of warmth running over him, like honey traveling through his veins.

“I loved Lincoln, I always will.” She tells him, eyes flickering over his still unmoving face. “But my heart, it’s always belonged to you.”

Jughead can feel his brows pinch together as he moves his hands up to cradle her cheeks, letting his eyes memorize each detail of her expression in this confession before he lowers his lips to hers in a deep kiss.

He drinks her in fully, grasping to reach every and all parts of her soul laid bare before him; he wants to be drunk in her love. He lets it wash over him in warm waves, revitalizing parts of his body he hadn’t known were parched for her love until now.

Betty Cooper, she’s an archetype all her own. A woman of her own story and a whispered prayer to chase the darkness away, she’s air and water, and absolutely _everything_.

Jughead’s never known himself to be lost. He’s never realized it—not until just now. But it’s true. He’s lost without her. He’s one half of a soul, having wandered incomplete without her with him, but now, she’s here in his arms, and he feels complete. He’s found by her, and she doesn’t even realize it.

“Marry me.” Jughead breathes out, the words tumbling from his lips before his brain can catch up. He watches Betty’s eyes widen as her lips part in wonder by his plea.

“Juggie—“ her near inaudible gasp forces his heart to speed up.

He pulls away and stands, digging into the jacket pocket on the floor before grabbing the small velvet box in it. Turning around, Betty’s sitting up in bed, her shirt unbuttoned enough that the moonlight seeping through the window casts a glow over the blush on her breasts and cheeks. The sight of her, hair mussed and her feet covered in mismatched socks, she hasn’t looked more beautiful.

Bending his knee, Jughead swallows at her gasp and flicks the box open, revealing the small but elegant ring inside.

Betty raises her hand as her eyes fill with tears, of which he doesn’t know are happy or sad—he prays for the former.

“Betty,” he begins, working up the nerve that’s slipped away in his impromptu proposal. He licks his lips and takes a moment to gather the racing thoughts in his mind. “…I love you. And I know you’re still going through your own things—I wasn’t going to do this now, I was going to wait until—But, I—” Shit, he’s rambling now. What if this scares her off? What was he thinking? “…Will you marry me? It doesn’t have to be soon. Whenever you’re ready—It can be next year or five years, or _ten_ , I just—“

“Yes.” Betty breathes, stopping the words short on his tongue.

Jughead exhales roughly and blinks up at her, licking his lips as he confirms with himself what she’s actually just said. “Yes?”

Betty nods through her tears, the corners of her mouth peeking out from behind her hand in a sign that she’s smiling. “Yes!”

He closes the distance between them and kisses her, savoring this one moment of pure and unadulterated joy. “I love you,” Jughead exhales over her lips, swallowing the blissful sigh she emits at the statement. “I love you, Betty Cooper.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, what a lovely time i've had writing this fic  
> thank you all so much for giving so much love and support!!  
> i appreciate it greatly! <33
> 
> unbeta'd

 

 

 

 

>  ▱◯♕
> 
> _“I lost my way_  
>  _all the way to you_  
>  _and in you_  
>  _I found all the way_  
>  _back to me.”_  
>  _—Atticus_
> 
> ◯

There’s something liberating in forgiveness.

A murmur of a candle flickering back to life in the dark parts of one’s soul, Betty wonders how many years of heartache she’d have saved herself if she learned to forgive sooner. Not just her family, but herself.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness. It can only fester.

It takes Betty longer than she cares to admit in realizing that, though she’d forgiven her father, the anger toward Polly’s decision to take her life—Betty hadn’t forgiven her sister for that. It’d only been when Tobi one day grabbed the frame off his grandma Alice’s bookshelf, his five-year-old self running it up to Betty and Alice as they chatted in the kitchen.

_“Momma, look, there’s two of you!”_

And like that, Betty had felt the sharp stab of regret.

Regret in failing to keep the memory of her sister alive, to a point her baby boy knew nothing about her—not even her existence.

So here she is now, the short heels of her beige booties sinking into the soft earth of Riverdale’s Cemetery and her hands digging into her blue peacoat in search of the one place she’s been avoiding for years now.

Hidden slightly by the overgrowth of a nearby willow tree, Betty makes out the engravements of the headstone.

_Polly Cooper_

_Devoted daughter, sister, and friend._

_“Sleep on now, and take your rest.” Matthew 10:22_

 

It’s silent in the graveyard, but so loud in Betty’s mind.

She resists the urge to clench her fingers and instead focuses on the slightly brittle petals of the tulips resting in front of the slab of marble.

Kneeling down, Betty adjusts the flowers in a prettier angle, and takes a sharp breath in as her knuckles brush the stone. “Oh, Pol…”

Betty clenches her eyes shut and fights the tightness in the back of her throat, reminding herself of _why_ she’s come here in the first place. Birds in the distance and the gentle whistle of the winds sweeping through the trees and foliage bring her back into a state of calmness, and she opens her eyes, letting them glide over the epitaph again.

“…I miss you, Polly.” Betty whispers, sniffling when there’s no response.

Digging her hand back into her pocket, Betty’s fingers brush over the sharp edges of a photo before she pulls it out, flicking the corners of it in unsure movements before placing it beside the flowers in front of her.

“It’s a girl.” Betty says quietly, smiling as she stares at the black and white photo with a bittersweet melancholy in thinking of the little girl with red pigtails out there somewhere. She thinks of Polly’s excitement over her baby girl, and placing her hand over the bump on her stomach, Betty can’t even _fathom_ the despair in being forced to give hers up.

“I’m sorry, Polly.”

The emotions she’s trying to control within her come flooding out of her. Tucking blonde hair behind her ear, Betty shakes her head.

“I understand why you did it… If I lost my children— _god_ ,” a deep, gut wrenching feeling twists in her stomach at even the thought of that, making her voice catch. “I can’t imagine it, Polly. I can’t imagine what you went through an—and, I’m so sorry I didn’t do more. I’m sorry.”

The breeze picks up, and the tears on her cheeks tickle at its sensation.

“I forgive you.” Betty whispers, pressing her palm flat against the headstone as she ducks her head. “I just, I hope you forgive me.”

Like a scene plucked from a storybook, Betty watches in wonder as a small winged white butterfly flutters onto the marble before flying away. _Polly_ , she thinks as her eyes burn with unshed tears. And like that, she feels lighter.

“I love you so much, Pol.” Betty takes a shuddering breath before carefully getting to her feet again, kissing the tips of her fingers and pressing them to the marble. “I miss you.”

When Betty walks back to the parking lot, she smiles at seeing Tobi standing on the hood of the car, talking exuberantly to Jughead, who’s watching and listening with rapt attention.

Hands cradling her baby bump, Betty feels weightless. She feels with every step taken, the shackles on her feet have been cut loose and tossed away. Her smile stretches out when she hears a conversation on the debate of power rangers and transformers between the two.

When Tobi spots her, he slips off the hood of the car and runs to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her bump as he’d been doing since he found out there was a baby in there.

“Hope I didn’t keep you boys waiting too long.” She tells them, walking closer to Jughead.

“Not at all.” he takes a step forward, searching her eyes in a silent question, _are you okay?_

Betty cups his cheek and gives a gentle kiss in confirmation that yes, she’s okay. She’s _more_ than okay. Moving to cradle Tobi’s chin, she tilts his face up at her and is hit with affection at his gap-toothed smile.

“Are you ready to see Poppy and Nan?” she asks, helping him into his booster seat as Jughead opens the passenger door, leaning over it as he waits to help her in.

“Yeah!” Tobi shouts enthusiastically, bouncing in his seat, curly hair flopping on his head.

“You’re going to behave for them, aren’t you?” she raises a brow, clicking his seatbelt into place and pulling away to make sure he sees her serious face. “I don’t want to hear anything about you acting up, understand?”

“I won’t.” He shakes his head, swinging his light up sneakers. “I promise, Momma. And, Poppy says he’s gonna buy me an ipad.”

Betty throws an exasperated look to Jughead before she looks back to her son and kisses his cheek before pulling away. “We’ll see. I’m going to talk to your Poppy first.”

When she shuts the door, Jughead’s smirking slightly at her from his position. “An ipad?”

“He’s not getting one.” Betty shakes her head as she slides into the car. When Jughead gets in and starts the engine, they begin their trip to the hotel across the town.

When arriving at the small building, Betty spots the older couple unloading things from their SUV. Tobi spots them as well and rolls his window down before yelling out, “Poppy! Nan!!”

“Don’t yell, baby.” Betty chides gently before giving a wave to the elderly couple.

When they exit the car, she’s a little nervous and blames it entirely on her hormones. The last time she’d seen her former in-laws, she’d had a flat belly. Now, she’s only the slightest bit uncomfortable, but not enough to where she’s going to let it overshadow her excitement and pride.

Proving her worries for nothing, Betty beams when they congratulate her and Jughead, and though she knows there’s still a small bit of unsettled tension between them, she’s glad they’ve made strides in burying their issues for Tobi’s sake.

“He’s been excited to spend this weekend with you both all week.” Betty tells them, exchanging and updating information with her former mother-in-law.

“We’ll have lots of fun, won’t be, Tobi?”

Though it’s not the first time her son will be gone one night from her, Betty still feels heartbroken to walk away.

“Bye momma, bye daddy!” Tobi gives her a hug and kiss before doing the same to Jughead.

“Stay behaved, okay bud?” Jughead ruffles his hair, the curves of his lips turned up slightly when Tobi gives him another noisy kiss on his cheek.

“I promise.”

“Bye, baby.” Betty crouches slightly, squeezing him to her as he gives a dramatic noise of impatience at it. “You call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.” Tobi bounces on his feet, eager to go with the grandparents he doesn’t see as often as Alice and FP.

“I love you.”

Tobi clutches his arms around her neck and kisses her lips. “I love you, too.”

“To the moon and back?” Betty asks, the recital they’ve grown to ask one another through the years. Something for just them.

“And to heaven.” He finishes.

Betty exhales and finally steps away before finishing the small talk and walking back to their car.

“He’ll be fine, Betts.” Jughead rubs her arm, already aware of her moods. A soft kiss to her temple, Betty sags into his embrace and doesn’t let go of his hand—even when they’re back on the road and heading home.

“I’m sorry about today.” She tells him, leaning her head against the seat as she stares at his profile while he drives. “I know this isn’t exactly the ideal anniversary.”

Blue eyes glance toward her, and Betty gives a sweet smile to the absolute tenderness in them.

“We’re together.” He answers her, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “It’s pretty ideal to me.”

“You’re such a romantic sometimes, Juggie.” She giggles, moving the hand not being caressed by his own over her stomach. Inside her, a piece of her and Jughead grows, and she can't help but to touch in wonder.

Jughead scoffs in mock affront at her accusation. “The word you’re looking for is enigmatic.”

“Hmm,” Betty tilts her head, “No, I meant romantic.”

“Yeah, well… you love me.” He retorts halfheartedly, the jest in his tone enough to fill every crevice of her heart and soul with liquid warmth.

Her eyes soften as she lifts their linked hands to place a kiss upon, watching the teasing curve of his brows settle back into place in adoration, disarmed by her tender gesture. He twirls the ring on her finger idly; the band feels solid against her skin—it feels part of her now, like a limb.

A promise of forever, Betty thinks that might not even be long enough.

“I love you.” She whispers, feeling her eyes mist over in a wave of emotions she once again blames on her hormones.

“Hey,” Jughead reaches up, brushing his knuckles softly against her skin to catch the tears there.

“Sorry,” she gives a watery chuckle as they finally reach home.

“Don’t be.” he tells her before walking around to open the door for her. The feel of his hand on her stomach when he helps her out fills her with a sense of security and protection, and Betty can’t help but fall into his embrace once more.

“Happy anniversary, Juggie.” She breathes deeply, inhaling his scent.

“The first of many to come.” He whispers into her hair before tilting her head and slanting his lips over hers in a slow, languid kiss. When he pulls away, his gaze on her holds nothing but impassioned ardor, and she can’t help but feel breathless in witnessing it, even after years together.

“Come on,” he moves his hand from her stomach to her own and laces their fingers together before they’re walking inside.

When the light comes on, Betty’s gaze first falls upon Hotdog lounging on the floor, but then…pink. Tulips. Adorning the surfaces in the living room, their pink petals cast with the gentle glow of the twinkle lights dangling from the ceiling—Betty blinks in surprise. Their living room sofa is pulled out into a bed full of pillows and blankets, and there’s a projector behind it.

Betty gives a sharp, tremulous laugh at the movie on the screen.

“ _Somewhere in Time_ ,” she looks to him, her heart constricting at just how thought out and beautiful it all is. How thoughtful _he_ is. “I love this movie...”

Jughead grins and brushes her hair back, letting his fingers drag across her scalp in a soothing motion. “I know.”

“But how—?”

“Jellybean and my dad helped a bit while we were gone.” He rubs the back of his neck before plucking the beanie off his head and tossing it to the nearby table.

Betty makes a mental note to thank them later, but right now, she’s focused on other things.

Soon, when they find themselves under the blankets, snacks in front of them with Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour on screen, Betty doesn’t think there’s any place else in the world she’d rather be.

“See?” she whispers teasingly as her eyes start to droop with drowsiness a short while later, catching Jughead’s attention as he pauses in eating his popcorn to look at her. “You’re a romantic, Jughead Jones.”

Jughead swallows his mouthful and moves his hand up to brush her hair behind her ear. “Only for you, Betty Jones.”

Sighing contentedly, Betty feels herself begin to drift to sleep, safe in his arms. Here, their family blooms like the love they share inside this home they’ve built for themselves.

A home, filled with tulips, her favorite flower.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .fin.


End file.
